-  ^\ 


BOOK     180.B179S    c   1 


3  T1S3  ODOhami  a 


SOURCE  BOOK  IN 
ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 


SOURCE  BOOK  IN 


ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 


BY 

CHARLES    M.  ^KEWELL 

PROFESSOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY   IN  YALE  UNIVERSITY 


CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

NEW  YORK        CHICAGO         BOSTON 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  Americr. 


Published  September,  1907 
K 


PREFACE 

Every  one  who  has  attempted  to  introduce  students 
to  the  study  of  Philosophy  by  way  of  its  history  must 
have  felt  the  need  of  having  in  compact  form  the  most 
significant  documents  upon  which  the  interpretations 
of  that  history  are  based,  in  order  that  it  may  be  possible 
from  the  first  to  bring  the  student  into  direct  contact 
with  the  sources,  so  far  at  least  as  that  may  be  done 
through  the  medium  of  translations.  The  primary  aim 
of  this  book  is  to  supply  this  need.  It  is  intended  to 
serve  either  as  a  companion  volume  to  any  History  of 
Philosophy  that  may  be  adopted  as  a  text-book,  or  as  a 
substitute  for  such  a  history  where  the  instructor  may 
prefer  through  his  own  lectures  to  give  his  own  inter- 
pretation of  this  philosophical  movement.  It  is  hoped 
that  the  book  may  also,  as  a  reference  work,  prove  of 
value  to  students  of  philosophy  generally,  as  well  as 
to  all  who  are  interested  in  the  development  of  ancient 
thought. 

No  attempt  has  been  made  to  make  an  exhaustive 
Source  Book.  I  have  simply  brought  together  the  more 
significant  passages  from  the  earlier  philosophers,  begin- 
ning with  Thales  and  reaching  as  far  as  Plotinus.  The 
book  includes  most  of  the  fragments  of  the  earliest 
philosophers,  together  with  the  passages  from  the  second- 
ary sources  which  are  most  important  in  throwing  light 
upon  these  fragments.  In  the  case  of  the  other  philos- 
ophers it  includes  a  number  of  brief  extracts  which  may 


Vi  PREFACE 

serve  as  texts  to  hang  discussions  on,  and  also  some  more 
extended  passages  selected  with  the  view  of  bringing  one 
directly  into  the  spirit  and  method  of  the  several  phi- 
losophers represented.  More  space  has  been  given  to 
Plotinus  than  his  relative  importance  would  warrant. 
This,  however,  needs  no  apology.  Plotinus  is  perhaps 
more  frequently  misrepresented  in  historical  discussions 
than  any  other  Greek  philosopher.  Here  especially  is 
it  necessary  to  let  the  philosopher  speak  for  himself. 
And,  besides,  Plotinus's  works  are  comparatively  in- 
accessible to  English  readers,  whereas  the  extracts  from 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  from  Lucretius  and  the  later  Stoics 
can  be  supplemented  at  will. 

While  most  of  these  sources  are  already  accessible  in 
translation  they  are^  scattered  through  so  many  volumes, 
and  are  mixed  with  so  much  material  that  is  chiefly  of 
value  to  the  advanced  student  whose  historical  interests 
have  become  highly  specialized,  as  to  be  practically 
unavailable  for  use  in  connection  with  introductory 
courses. 

My  obligations  to  others  are  so  numerous  that  it  would 
be  impossible  to  mention  them  all.  In  making  the 
translations  I  have  in  each  case  had  before  me  all  of  the 
translations  already  in  the  field,  whether  in  English, 
German,  French,  or  Latin,  upon  which  I  could  lay  my 
hands;  and  I  have  borrowed  freely  from  most  of  them. 
In  especial,  however,  I  should  like  to  acknowledge  my 
indebtedness  to  Professors  Diels,  Burnet,  and  Fairbanks ; 
and  in  the  selection  of  passages  I  have  taken  many 
suggestions  from  the  works  of  Hitter  and  Preller, 
Wallace,  Jackson,  and  Adam. 

I  wish  also  to  express  my  gratitude  to  Prof.  G.  H. 
Palmer  for  many  valuable  suggestions,  and  for  the  con- 


PREFACE  vii 

tribution  of  his  translation  of  the  Hymn  of  Clean thes; 
and  to  Dr.  B.  A.  G.  Fuller  for  the  selection  and  transla- 
tion of  the  passages  from  Plotinus,  and  the  passages 
from  Plutarch  in  criticism  of  the  Stoic  theodicy. 

My  thanks  are  also  due  to  Mr.  T.  W.  Higginson  for 
permission  to  quote  from  his  translation  of  Epictetus, 
to  Dr.  W.  T.  Harris  for  permission  to  reprint  from  The 
Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy  the  translation  of  the 
fragments  of  Parmenides,  made  by  the  late  Thomas 
Davidson,  and  to  the  Cambridge  University  Press,  the 
Oxford  University  Press,  Messrs.  George  Bell  &  Sons, 
The  Macmillan  Company,  and  Little,  Brown  &  Company, 
for  permission  to  use  translations  published  by  them. 
Special  acknowledgments  of  borrowed  translations  are 
made  in  foot-notes.  The  only  case  where  confusion  is 
likely  to  arise  is  in  the  extracts  from  Plato.  I  assume 
responsibility  myself  for  the  translation  of  the  Apology; 
the  selections  from  the  Republic  are  from  the  translation 
of  Davies  and  Vaughan,  and  all  the  remaining  Plato 
selections  are  from  the  latest  edition  of  Jowett's  work. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

I. — The  Milesian  School 1 

Thales:  General  standpoint  of  the  early  philosophers,  and 
the  opinions  of  Thales,   1,     Anaximander:  The  "bound- 


less"   as    first    principle,    3.     Scientific    speculations,    5. 
Anaximenes:  His  opinions,  7. 


J 


II. — ^The  Eleatic  School 8 

Xenophanes:  The  fragments,  8.  An  illustration  of  Xenoph- 
anes's  scientific  reasoning,  10.  Parmenides:  The  frag- 
ments of  his  poem  "On  Nature,"  11.  Plato  and  Aristotle 
on  Eleatic  philosophy,  20.  Zeno:  The  puzzles  of  com- 
position and  division,  22.  Space  not  a  real  thing.  23.  The 
puzzles  of  motion,  24.  The  purpose  of  Zeno's  arguments 
as  reported  by  Plato,  25. 

III. — Heraclitus 28 

The  fragments,  28. 

IV. — ^The  Pythagorean  Philosophy  .        .        .       .       .        .36 

The  number  philosophy  of  the  Pythagoreans,  36.  The 
Pythagorean  "  Golden  Words,"  40. 

V. — ^Empedocles 43 

The  fragments,  43.     Secondary  sources,  46. 

VI. — Anaxagoras 49 

The  fragments,  49.  Secondary  sources,  53.  Some  of 
Aristotle's  comments  on  Anaxagoras,  55. 

VII. — ^The  Atomists 57 

Leucippus,  57.  Leucippus  and  Democritus,  58.  Democ- 
ritus:  The  fragments,  59.  The  "Golden  Sayings"  of 
Democritus,  60.  The  atomists  on  the  soul  according  to 
Aristotle,  65. 

ix 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

VIII. — ^The  Sophists 67 

Two  sayings  of  Protagoras,  67.  A  saying  of  Gorgias,  67. 
An  account  of  the  calling  and  profession  of  the  Sophist  from 
the  writings  of  Plato,  68.  Aristotle  on  the  Sophists,  69. 
The  Sophists  and  the  Athenian  youth,  69.  The  Prota- 
gorean  doctrine  of  relativity  as  Plato  interprets  it  in  the 
Thecetetus,  78.     Gorgias  as  a  rhetorician,  85. 

IX. — Socrates 86 

Aristotle  on  Socrates's  achievement,  86.  Xenophon's 
tribute  to  Socrates,  86.  The  sort  of  questions  Socrates 
was  concerned  with,  90.  Socrates  on  the  Good  and  the 
Beautiful,  91,  Socrates's  method,  95.  A  bit  of  his  biog- 
raphy, as  reported  by  Plato,  96.  An  illustration  of  his 
method  of  showing  up  ignorance,  101. 

X. — Socrates's    Defence    of    Himself    as    Reported    by 

Plato  in  the  APOLOGY 104 

XI. — ^The  Lesser  Socrates 142 

The  Cyrenaics.  Aristippus,  142.  The  Cynics.  Antis- 
thenes  and  Diogenes,  145. 

XII.— Plato 148 

Plato's  relation  to  his  predecessors  according  to  Aristotle, 
148.  From  the  Phcedrus:  Dialectic  vs.  rhetoric,  149.  From 
the  Symposium:  On  love,  152.  From  the  Philebus: 
Pleasure  and  the  other  goods,  157.  From  the  Timceus: 
The  creation  of  the  world,  160.  Why  it  is  necessary  to 
assume  the  existence  of  the  Ideas,  167.  From  the  Par- 
menides:  Puzzles  presented  by  the  theory  of  ideas,  168. 

XIII.— Plato— Con^inwed 180 

From  the  Republic:  The  nature  of  virtue,  180.  The  four 
cardinal  virtues,  182.  The  higher  education  leading  up  to 
the  Idea  of  the  Good,  186.  The  Idea  of  the  Good  as  the 
source  of  truth  and  of  reality,  192.  Reality  and  appearance ; 
knowledge  and  opinion,  199.  The  allegory  of  the  den; 
shadows  and  realities,  203.  Dialectic  the  coping  stone  of 
the  sciences,  213. 


CONTENTS  XI 

PAGS 

XIV. — ^Aristotle 217 

Origin  and  nature  of  philosophy,  217.  Aristotle's  criticism 
of  the  theory  of  ideas,  220.  Aristotle's  o^n  view  regard- 
ing the  universal,  223.  The  four  causes,  225.  Aristotle's 
conception  of  God:  Necessity  of  assuming  a  first  cause  or 
prime  mover,  227.  Divine  reason  as  the  prime  mover,  230. 
Divine  reason  and  its  object,  233. 

XV. — ^Aristotle  on  Psychology 236 

The  nature  of  the  soul,  236.  The  animate  and  the  in- 
animate, 240.  Nourishment  the  fundamental  function, 
touch  the  fundamental  sense,  242.  Sense-perception,  243. 
Cognition,  244.  Creative  reason,  246.  Reason  and  judg- 
ment, 247.  Reason  and  its  object,  248.  The  springs  of 
action,  249. 

XVI. — ^Aristotle  on  Ethics 251 

The  summum  bonum,  251.  To  find  it  we  ask  what  is  man's 
function,  253.  How  virtue  is  acquired,  257.  Virtue  and 
vice  ahke  voluntary,  259.  On  friendship,  261.  Highest 
happiness  found  in  the  vision  of  truth,  264.  How  the  end 
is  to  be  reahzed,  266. 

XVIL— The  Stoics 269 

The  parts  of  philosophy  and  the  criterion  of  truth,  269. 
Ethics:  Following  nature,  272.  The  Hymn  of  Cleanthes, 
277.     Plutarch's  refutation  of  the  Stoic  theodicy,  278. 

XVIII.— Epicurus 290 

Theory  of  knowledge,  290.  Physical  speculations,  293. 
The  practical  philosophy  of  Epicurus,  296.  Some  maxims 
of  Epicurus,  302. 

XIX. — Lucretius 305 

The  wages  of  philosophy,  305.  The  course  of  the  atoms, 
307.  The  unconcerned  gods,  309.  The  nature  of  mind 
and  soul,  309.  DispelUng  the  dread  of  death,  313.  No 
designer  of  nature,  316. 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

XX. — Epictetus 317 

Things  which  are  in  our  power,  317.  The  essence  of  good, 
320.  As  Socrates  would  have  done,  322.  In  harmony 
with  God  and  His  universe,  324. 

XXI. — Marcus  Aurelius 326 

Follow  nature,  326.  The  harmony  of  the  universe,  331. 
Man's  insignificance  and  his  grandeur,  336. 

XXII.— Plotinus 340 

The  soul,  340.  The  intellect,  353.  The  One,  363.  The 
process  of  emanation,  371. 

XXIII. — Plotinus — Continued 375 

Matter,  357.     Sin  and  salvation,  384. 


I 

THE  MILESIAN  SCHOOL 

THALES 

[Flourished  585  B.C.] 

GENERAL   STANDPOINT   OF   THE    EARLY   PHILOSOPHERS    AND  THE 
OPINIONS    OF  THALES 

J — .  Most  i  of  the  early  philosophers  were  content  to  seek 
a  material  first  principle  as  the  cause  of  all  things.  For 
that  of  which  all  things  consist,  from  which  they  arise, 
into  which  they  pass  away,  the  substance  remaining 
the  same  through  all  its  changing  states — that,  I  say, 
is  what  they  mean  by  the  element,  or  the  first  principle, 
of  the  things  that  are.  And  this  is  why  they  hold  that, 
strictly  speaking,  nothing  comes  into  being  or  perishes, 
since  the  primal  nature  remains  ever  the  same.  For 
instance,  when  Socrates  becomes  handsome  or  cultured 
we  do  not  just  say  he  comes  into  being;  nor,  when  he 
loses  these  characteristics,  do  we  say  that  Socrates  is 
no  more.  Socrates,  the  subject,  remains  the  same 
throughout  these  changes.  And  it  is  the  same  with  all 
things.  There  must  be  some  natural  body  ((^uo-t?), 
one  or  many,  from  which  all  things  arise,  but  which 
itself  remains  the  same. 

r  But  of  what  sort  this  first  principle  is,  and  how  many 
^uch  there  are,  this  is  a  point  upon  which  they  are  not 
agreed.     Thales,  the  originator  of  this  kind  of  philosophy, 

1  Aristotle,  Met.  I.  3,  983  b  6  (R.  P.  9  a). 
1 


2  SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

declares  it  to  be  water.  (And  this  is  why  he  said  that 
the  earth  floats  on  water.)  Possibly  he  was  led  to 
this  opinion  by  observing  that  the  nourishment  of  all 
things  is  moist,  and  that  heat  itself  is  generated  and 
kept  alive  by  moisture.  And  that  from  which  all  things 
are  generated  is  just  what  we  mean  by  their  first  prin- 
ciple. This  may  be  where  he  got  his  idea,  and  also 
from  observing  that  the  germs  of  all  things  are  moist, 
and  that  moist  things  have  water  as  the  first  principla 
of  their  nature. 

Some  indeed  hold  that  those  who  lived  ages  ago, 
long  before  the  present  generation,  and  who  were  the 
first  to  reason  about  the  gods,  held  a  similar  view  about 
nature,  since  they  sang  of  Oceanus  and  Tethys  as  the 
parents  of  creation,  and  since  the  oath  by  which  their 
gods  swore  was  water,  or,  as  the  poets  themselves  called 
it,  Styx.  Now  that  which  is  most  held  in  esteem  is 
the  object  by  which  men  swear;  and  that  which  is 
most  ancient  is  that  which  is  most  esteemed.  Whether 
there  be  any  such  ancient  and  primitive  opinion  about 
nature  is  doubtless  an  obscure  question.  However, 
Thales  is  said  to  have  expressed  the  opinion  above  set 
forth  concerning  the  first  cause. 

*  * 

And  2  some  hold  that  the  soul  f  is  diffused  through  the 

universe.  Perhaps  this  is  what  led  Thales  to  say  that 
all  things  are  full  of  gods. 

2  Aristotle,  Psychology,  I.  5,  411  a  7  (R.  P.  10  a). 

t  One  must  beware  of  reading  later  meanings  into  the  word  'soul.* 
To  'have  soul'  (i|/wxV  ^x^*")  means  little  more  than  'to  be  alive.' 
'Vital  principle'  would  perhaps  express  the  meaning  better,  were 
it  not  for  the  fact  that  that  expression  implies  a  greater  degree 
of  abstraction  than  we  can  properly  attribute  to  these  early 
thinkers. 


THE  MILESIAN  SCHOOL  3 

Judging  3  from  what  is  reported  of  him,  Thales  appears 
to  have  viewed  the  soul  as  something  having  the  capacity 
to  set  up  movement,  if  it  is  true  that  he  said  that  the 
loadstone  has  a  soul  because  it  moves  iron. 


ANAXIMANDER 
[Flourished  about  570  B.C.] 

THE    "boundless"   AS  FIRST   PRINCIPLE 

Among  4  those  who  say  that  the  first  principle  is  one 
and  mobile  and  boundless  is  to  be  reckoned  Anaximander 
of  Miletus,  the  son  of  Praxiades,  the  successor  and 
follower  of  Thales.  He  said  that  "the  boundless'' 
(rb  aireopov)  was  the  first  principle  and  element  of  the 
things  that  are,  being  the  first  to  make  use  of  this  term 
in  describing  the  first  principle.  He  says  it  is  neither 
water  nor  any  of  the  other  elements  now  recognized, 
but  some  other  and  different  natural  body  which  is 
boundless;  and  from  it  arise  all  the  heavens  and  all  the 
worlds  which  they  contain. 

That  from  which  things  take  their  origin,  into  that 
again  they  pass  away,  as  destiny  orders;  for  they  are 
punished  and  give  satisfaction  to  one  another  for  their 
injustice  in  the  ordering  of  time,  as  he  puts  it  in  rather 
poetical  language. 

It  is  evident  that,  observing  the  way  in  which  the 
("four  elements  are  transformed  into  one  another,  he 
I  thought  fit  to  take  for  the  substratum,  not  some  one 

3  Aristotle,  405  a  17  (R.  P.  10  b). 

*  Theophr.  Fr.  2  ap.  Simplic.  Phijs.,  24  (Dox.  476;  R.  P.  12).  [I 
use  throughout  the  ^customary  abbreviations, — "Dox."  for  Diels' 
Doxographi  Grceci,  and  "R.  P."  for  Ritter  and  Preller,  Historia 
PhilosophicB  Grcecce.] 


4  SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

of  them,  but  rather  something  else  over  and  above  them 
all.  And  he  did  not  attribute  creation  (yeveaL<;)  to 
any  change  in  this  element,  but  rather  to  the  separating 
of  the  opposites  occasioned  by  the  eternal  movement. 
This  is  why  Aristotle  compares  his  view  with  that  of 
Anaxagoras.  h=** 

And  ^  he  says  that  this  principle,  which  encompasses 
all  worlds,  is  eternal  and  ageless. — And  besides  this, 
there  is  eternal  movement  in  which  there  results  the 
creation  of  the  heavens. 

*** 

And  ^  there  is  another  point  of  view  from  which  one 
does  not  make  the  cause  any  change  of  matter,  nor 
ascribe  creation  to  any  transformation  of  the  substratum, 
but  rather  to  separation.  Anaximander  says  that  the 
opposites  inhering  in  the  substratum,  which  is  a  bound- 
less body,  are  separated  out, — he  being  the  first  to 
name  the  substratum  as  first  principle.  And  the  ''  op- 
posites" are,  hot  and  cold,  moist  and  dry,  etc. 

*** 
Everything  ^  either  is  a  first  principle  or  arises  from  a 

first  principle;    but  of  the  boundless  there  is  no  first 

principle,  for  to  find  a  first  principle  for  it  would  be 

to  give  it  bounds.     Further,  it  (the  boundless)  is  un- 

begotten   and   indestructible,    being   a   first   principle. 

That  which  is  created  perishes,  and  there  is  a  limit  to 

all  destruction.    Therefore  there  is  no  first  principle  of 

the  boundless,  but  it  is  rather  the  first  principle  of  other 

things.     And  it  encompasses  all  things  and  rules  all 

things,  in  the  opinion  of  those  who  do  not  assume,  in 

5  Hipp.  Ref.  I.  6  (Dox.  559;  R.  P.  13). 

6  Simpl.  Phys.  150,  29  D  (R.  P.  14  a). 

7  Aristotle,  Phys.  III.  4,  203  b  6  (R.  P.  13). 


THE  MILESIAN   SCHOOL  5 

addition  to  the  boundless,  some  other  cause  such  as 
''reason/'  or  ''love."  And  this  is  the  divine,  for  it  is 
deathless  and  indestructible,  as  Anaximander  holds  in 
agreement  with  most  of  the  physical  philosophers. 

*  * 
But  ^  it  is  not  possible  that  there  should  be  an  infinite 

body  which  is  one  and  simple;  either,  as  some  hold, 
something  over  and  above  the  elements  and  from  which 
they  arise,  or  as  one  of  the  elements  themselves.  For 
there  are  some  who  hold  that  this  (i.  e.,  the  something 
other  than  the  elements)  is  the  boundless,  and  not  air 
or  water,  in  order  that  other  things  may  not  be  destroyed 
by  the  boundless.  For  these  (elements  themselves)  are 
opposed  to  one  another;  air  is  cold,  water  moist,  fire  hot. 
If  one  of  them  were  boundless,  the  rest  would  have 
perished  ere  this.  So  they  say  that  the  boundless  is  / 
something  other  than  the  elements  and  that  from  it  ' 
they  arise. 

SCIENTIFIC    SPECULATIONS 

The  ^  earth  hangs  free,  supported  by  nothing.  It 
keeps  its  place  because  it  is  in  the  centre  (Ht.  is  equally 
distant  from  all  things).  It  is  convex  and  round,  like 
a  stone  pillar.f  There  are  two  surfaces  opposite  one 
another,  on  one  of  which  we  are. 

The  stars  are  circles  of  fire,  separated  from  the  fire 
which  surrounds  the  world  and  covered  all  around  with 
air.  But  there  are  breathing  holes,  certain  tube-like 
openings,  through  which  the  stars  appear.  When  these 
holes  close  there  is  an  eclipse;  and  the  moon  appears  now 

8  Aristotle,  Phys.  III.  5,  204  b  22  (R.  P.  12  b). 

9  Hipp.  Ref.  I.  6  (Dox.  559-60;   R.  P.  14  c). 

t  So  Diels,  Dox.  218,  and  after  him  Burnet,  p.  72,  note.  The 
'convex'  is  then  taken  as  referring  to  the  surface  of  the  earth. 


6  SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

to  wax  and  now  to  wane  through  the  opening  and  closing 
of  these  holes.  .  .  .  The  sun  is  highest  of  all  the  heavenly 
bodies  and  lowest  are  the  circles  of  the  fixed  stars.  .  .  . 
Rain  comes  from  the  vapor  drawn  up  from  the  earth 
by  the  sun.  * 

From  1°  the  eternal  principle  was  separated  at  the 
creation  of  the  world  something  generative  of  hot  and 
cold;  and  from  this  a  sphere  of  flame  grew  around  the 
air  which  surrounds  the  earth,  as  the  bark  grows  around 
the  tree.  And  when  the  sphere  was  broken  up,  and  cut 
into  distinct  rings,  the  sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars 
came  into  being.  ,  * 

Living  11  things  sprang  from  (the  moist  element!) 
evaporated  by  the  sun.  Man  sprang  from  a  different 
animal,  in  fact  from  a  fish,  which  at  first  he  resembled. 

* 

*  * 

(Anaximander)i2  says  that  at  first  man  sprang  from 
a  different  kind  of  animal,  his  reason  being  that  whereas 
all  the  other  animals  are  speedily  able  to  find  nourish- 
ment for  themselves,  man  alone  requires  a  long  period 
of  suckling;  and  if  he  had  been  at  the  beginning  such  as 
he  is  now,  he  would  not  have  survived. 

* 

*  * 

The  12  first  living  things  were  generated  in  moisture, 
and  were  covered  with  a  hard  skin.  When  they  were 
old  enough  they  came  up  on  the  dry  banks,  and  after  a 
while  the  skin  cracked  off,  and  they  lived  on. 

10  Ps.  Plut.  Strom.  2  (R.  P.  14  b;    Dox.  579). 

11  Hipp.  Ref.  I.  6  (R.  P.  16;    Dox.  560). 

"  Ps.  Plut.  Strom.  2  (R.  P.  16;    Dox.  579)  . 
i3Aet.  Plac.  V,  19  (R.  P.  16;   Dox.  430). 

t  Cf.  Diels,  Dox.,  560,  note. 


THE  MILESIAN   SCHOOL  7 

ANAXIMENES 
[Flourished  about  550  B.C.] 

THE    OPINIONS    OF    ANAXIMENES 

Anaximenes  ^^  said  air  was  the  first  principle. 

*  * 

Anaximenes  of  Miletus/^  son  of  Eurystratos,  an  asso- 
ciate of  Anaximander,  agreed  with  him  in  holding  that 
the  substance  of  nature  was  one  and  boundless;  but  hei 
did  not  agree  with  him  in  holding  that  it  was  indetermi- 
nate, for  he  said  it  was  air.  But  it  differs  in  rarity  and 
density  with  different  things.  When  it  is  very  at- 
tenuated fire  arises;  when  it  is  condensed  wind,  then 
cloud,  then,  when  more  condensed,  water,  earth,  stones; 
and  other  things  come  from  these.  He  too  holds  the 
movement  eternal  by  which  the  changes  arise. 

*  * 

Just  1^  as  our  soul  which  is  air  holds  us  together,  so  it 

is  breath  and  air  that  encompasses  the  whole  world. 

* 

*  * 

All  1^  things  are  generated  by  a  sort  of  rarefaction 

and  condensation  of  air.       * 

*  * 

The  18  earth  is  flat  Hke  a  table  top. 

The  1^  earth  is  flat  and  floats  on  the  air. 

* 

The  20  stars  are  fixed  like  nails  in  the  crystalline  vault. 

"  Arist.  Met.  I  3,  984  a  5. 

15  Theophr.  Fr.  2,  ap.  Simplic.  Phys.,  24  (R.  P.  19  b;   Dox.  476). 

16  Aet.  Plac.  L  3,  4  (Dox.  278;   R.  P.  18). 

17  Ps.  Plut.  Strom.  Fr.  3   (R.  P.  19  a;   Dox.  579). 

18  Aet.  Plac.  III.  10,  3  (Dox.  377). 

19  Hipp.  Ref.  I,  7  (R.  P.  21;   Dox.  560). 

20  Aet.  14,  3  (Dox.  344). 


II 

THE  ELEATIC  SCHOOL 
XENOPHANES 

[Flourished  about  530  B.C.] 

THE    FRAGMENTS 

j  l.t  There  is  one  god,  supreme  among  gods  and  men; 

resembling  mortals  neither  in  form  nor  in  mind. 

I  2.  The  whole  of  him  sees,  the  whole  of  him  thinks,  the 

whole  of  him  hears. 
f3.  Without  toil  he  rules  all  things  by  the  power  of 

his  mind. 

^  4.  And  he  stays  always  in  the  same  place,  nor  moves 

at  all,  for  it  is  not  seemly  that  he  wander  about  now 

here,  now  there. 
^;   5.  But  mortals  fancy  gods  are  born,  and  wear  clothes, 

and  have  voice  and  form  like  themselves. 
^    6.  Yet  if  oxen  and  lions  had  hands,  and  could  paint 
'  with  their  hands,  and  fashion  images,  as  men  do,  they 

would  make  the  pictures  and  images  of  their  gods  in 

their  own  likeness;  horses  would  make  them  like  horses, 

oxen  like  oxen. 

(D.  16)    ^Ethiopians  tt  make  their  gods   black   and 

snub-nosed;  Thracians  give  theirs  blue  eyes  and  red  hair. 
\  34.  Xenophanes  ^  said  it  was  just  as  impious  to  say 

»  Aristotle,  Rhet.  II.  23.      1399  B  6. 

t  The  numbers  given  the  fragments  are  those  of  Karsten. 
tt  R.  P.  83.  Fr.  16  in  Diels'  arrangement  in  his  Die  Fragmente 
der  Vorsokratiker,  a  work  hereafter  referred  to  as  "Diels." 

8 


THE  ELEATIC   SCHOOL  9 

that  the  gods  are  bom  as  to  say  that  they  die.  For  it 
follows  from  either  view  that  at  some  time  or  other  they 
do  not  exist. 

O^  7.  Homer  and  Heeiod  have  ascribed  to  the  gods  all 
deeds  that  are  a  shame  and  a  disgrace  among  men: 
thieving,  adultery,  fraud. 

J  16.  The  gods  did  not  reveal  all  things  to  men  at  the 
start;  but,  as  time  goes  on,  by  searching,  they  discover 
more  and  more. 

4  14.  There  never  was,  nor  ever  will  be,  any  man  who 
knows  with  certainty  the  thmgs  about  the  gods  and 
about  all  things  which  I  tell  of.  For  even  if  he  does 
happen  to  get  most  things  right,  still  he  himself  does  not 
know  it.  But  mere  opinions  all  may  have. 
i-;»'15.  Let  these  opinions  of  mine  pass  for  semblances  of 
truths.  *** 

37.  (Upon  2  Empedocles  remarking  to  him  (Xeno- 
phanes)  that  it  was  impossible  to  find  a  wise  man  he 
replied:  Very  likely;  it  takes  a  wise  man  to  know  a 
wise  man  when  he  finds  one.) 

f  8.  From  earth  to  earth, — the  beginning  and  end  of  all 
things. 

{  9.  We  all  sprang  from  earth  and  water. 

•  10.  All  things  that  come  into  being  and  grow  are 
earth  and  water. 

•  12.  The  upper  limit  of  the  earth  we  see  at  our  feet, 
where  it  strikes  against  the  air;  but  below  it  reaches 
down  without  limit. 

•  13.  The  (rainbow)  which  men  call  Iris  is  also  by  nature 
a  cloud,  of  aspect  purple  and  red  and  green. 

^    19.  Let  one  but  win  a  race  through  fleetness  of  foot, 
or  be  victorious  in  the  pentathlon,  there  where  lies  the 
2Diog.  Laert.  IX.  20. 


10         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

sacred  field  of  Zeus,  in  Olympia,  hard  by  the  river  of 
Pisas;  or  let  him  be  victorious  in  wrestling,  or  in  a  bloody- 
boxing  match,  or  in  the  terrible  contest  called  the 
pancration, — in  the  eyes  of  the  citizens  he  will  be  re- 
splendent with  glory;  he  will  gain  a  conspicuous  seat  of 
honor  in  the  public  assemblies,  there  will  be  feasting 
for  him  at  the  public  expense,  and  a  gift  from  his  city 
for  a  token.  Yes,  if  he  should  win  a  chariot  race,  all 
these  things  would  fall  to  his  lot,  though  not  so  deserving 
as  I  am.  For  our  wisdom  is  better  than  the  strength 
of  men  or  of  horses.  This  is  in  truth  a  most  heedless 
custom ;  nor  is  it  right  thus  to  prefer  strength  to  precious 
wisdom. 

What  if  there  be  among  the  people  a  good  boxer,  or 
one  who  excels  in  the  pentathlon,  or  in  wrestling,  or  in 
fleetness  of  foot, — which  is  more  highly  honored  than 
strength  in  the  contests  at  the  games!  The  city  is  not 
on  that  account  one  whit  better  governed.  Small 
profit  does  the  city  get  out  of  it,  when  one  is  victorious 
in  contests  by  the  banks  of  the  Pisas.  That  does  not 
enrich  the  innermost  parts  of  the  state. 

20.  Having  learned  from  the  Lydians  useless  luxuries, 
what  time  they  were  free  from  hateful  servitude,  they 
used  to  come  swaggering  into  the  place  of  assembly 
by  the  thousand,  wearing  loose  mantles  all  purple-dyed, 
glorying  in  their  flowing  comely  hair,  and  reeking  with 
the  odor  of  curiously  compounded  perfumes. 

AN    ILLUSTRATION    OF    XENOPHANES'    SCIENTIFIC    REASONING 

Xenophanes  ^  thought  that  a  mixture  of  land  and 
sea  came  into  being,  and  that  in  course  of  time  this  was 
resolved  into  its  parts  under  the  influence  of  the  moist 

'Hipp.,  Ref.  I.  14  (R.  P.  86  a;  Dox.  565). 


THE   ELEATIC   SC'HOOL  11 

element.  And  he  adduces  such  proofs  as  these:  Fossils 
are  found  in  the  midst  of  the  land  and  on  mountains; 
and  in  the  quarries  of  Syracuse  the  imprints  of  a  fish  and 
of  seals  have  been  found;  and  at  Paros  the  imprint  of  a 
sardine  deep  in  stone;  and  at  Malta  traces  of  all  sorts 
of  things  of  the  sea.  And  he  says  that  these  were  made 
when,  long  ago,  all  things  were  mud,  and  the  imprint 
was  dried  in  the  mud.  And  when  the  earth,  having 
sunk  in  the  sea,  becomes  mud  once  more,  all  men  will 
disappear.  Then  a  new  creation  will  begin.  And  this 
change  happens  to  all  worlds. 


PARMENIDES 
[Flourished  about  495  B.C.] 

THE   FRAGMENTS   OF  PARMENIDES'   POEM    "  ON  NATURE  "  f 

/.  Introduction 

Soon  as  the  coursers  that  bear  me  and  drew  me  as  far  as 

extendeth 
Impulse,  guided  me  and  threw  me  aloft  in  the  glorious 

pathway. 
Up  to  the  Goddess  that  guideth  through  all  things  man 

that  is  conscious. 
There  was  I  carried  along,  for  there  did  the  coursers 

sagacious. 
Drawing  the  chariot,  bear  me,  and  virgins  preceded  to 

guide  them — 
Daughters  of  Helios  leaving  behind  them  the  mansions  of 

darkness — 

t  The  translation  of  Parmenides'  poem  On  Nature  that  is  here 
given  was  made  by  Thomas  Davidson,  and  published  in  Vol.  IV  of 
the  Journal  of  Speculative  Philosophy. 


12         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Into  the  light,  with  their  strong  hands  forcing  asunder 

the  night-shrouds, 
While  in  its  socket  the  axle  emitted  the  sound  of  a  syrinx, 
Glowing,  for  still  it  was  urged  by  a  couple  of  wheels  well- 
rounded, 
One  upon  this  side,  one  upon  that,  when  it  hastened  its 

motion. 
There  were  the  gates  of  the  paths  of  the  Night  and  the 

paths  of  the  Day-time. 
Under  the  gates  is  a  threshold  of  stone  and  above  is  a 

lintel. 
These  too  are  closed  in  the  ether  with  great  doors  guarded 

by  Justice — 
Justice  the  mighty  avenger,  that  keepeth  the  keys  of 

requital. 
Her  did  the  virgins  address,  and  with  soft  words  deftly 

persuaded, 
Swiftly  for  them  to  withdraw  from  the  gates  the  bolt 

and  its  fastener. 
Opening  wide,  they  uncovered  the  yawning  expanse  of 

the  portal. 
Backward  rolling  successive  the  hinges  of  brass  in  their 

sockets, — 
Hinges  constructed  with  nails  and  with  clasps;  then  on- 
ward the  virgins 
Straightway  guided  their  steeds  and  their  chariot  over 

the  highway. 
Then  did  the  goddess  receive  me  with  gladness,   and 

taking  my  right  hand 
Into  her  own,  thus  uttered  a  word  and  kindly  bespake 

me: 
Youth  that  art  mated  with  charioteers  and  companions 

immortal. 


THE  ELEATIC  SCHOOL  13 

Coming  to  us  on  the  coursers  that  bear  thee,  to  visit  our 

mansion, 
Hail!  for  it  is  not  an  evil  Award  that  hath  guided  thee 

hither. 
Into  this  path — for,  I  ween,  it  is  far  from  the  pathway  of 

mortals — 
Nay,  it  is  Justice  and  Right.     Thou  needs  must  have 

knowledge  of  all  things, 
First  of  the  Truth's  unwavering  heart  that  is  fraught 

with  conviction. 
Then  of  the  notions  of  mortals,  where  no  true  conviction 

abide  th; 
But  thou  shalt  surely  be  taught  this  too,  that  every 

opinion 
Needs  must  pass  through  the  ALL,  and  vanquish  the 

test  with  approval. 

//.  On  Truth 

Listen,  and  I  will  instruct  thee — and  thou,  when  thou 

hearest,  shalt  ponder — 
What  are  the  sole  two  paths  of  research  that  are  open  to 

thinking. 
One  path  is:  That  Being  doth  be,  and  Non-Being  is  not: 
This  is  the  way  of  Conviction,  for  Truth  follows  hard  in 

her  footsteps. 
Th'  other  path  is :  That  Being  is  not,  and  Non-Being  must 

be; 
This  one,  I  tell  thee  in  truth,  is  an  all-incredible  pathway. 
For  thou  never  canst  know  what  is  not  (for  none  can 

conceive  it), 
Nor  canst  thou  give  it  expression,  for  one  thing  are 

Thinking  and  Being. 


14         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

.  .  .  And  to  me  'tis  indifferent 
Whence  I  begin,  for  thither  again  thou  shalt  find  me 
returning. 

Speaking  and  thinking  must  needs  be  existent,  for  IS 

is  of  being. 
Nothing  must  needs  not  be;  these  things  I  enjoin  thee  to 

ponder. 
Foremost  of  all  withdraw  thy  mind  from  this  path  of 

inquiry. 
Then  likewise  from  that  other,  wherein  men,  empty  of 

knowledge. 
Wander  forever  uncertain,  while  Doubt  and  Perplexity 

guide  them — 
Guide  in  their  bosoms  the  wandering  mind;  and  onward 

they  hurry. 
Deaf  and  dumb  and  blind  and  stupid,  imreasoning  cattle — 
Herds  that  are  wont  to  think  Bemg  and  Non-Being  one 

and  the  self-same. 
Yet  not  one  and  the  same;  and  that  all  things  move  in  a 

circle. 

Never  I  ween  shalt  thou  learn  that  Being  can  be  of  what 
is  not; 

Wherefore  do  thou  withdraw  thy  mmd  from  this  path  of 
inquiry. 

Neither  let  habit  compel  thee,  while  treading  this  path- 
way of  knowledge, 

Still  to  employ  a  visionless  eye  or  an  ear  full  of  ringing, 

Yea,  or  a  clamorous  tongue;  but  prove  this  vexed  dem- 
onstration 

Uttered  by  me,  by  reason.  And  now  there  remains  for 
discussion 


THE  ELEATIC    SCHOOL  15 

One  path  only :  That  Being  doth  be — and  on  it  there  are 
tokens 

Many  and  many  to  show  that  what  is  is  birthless  and 
deathless, 

Whole  and  only-begotten,  and  moveless  and  ever- 
enduring  : 

Never  it  was  or  shall  be;  but  the  ALL  simultaneously 
now  is, 

One  continuous  one;  for  of  it  what  birth  shalt  thou 
search  for? 

How  and  whence  it  hath  sprung?  I  shall  not  permit 
thee  to  tell  me, 

Neither  to  think:  '  Of  what  is  not,'  for  none  can  say  or 
imagine 

How  Not-Is  becomes  Is;  or  else  what  need  should  have 
stirred  it. 

After  or  yet  before  its  beginning,  to  issue  from  nothing? 

Thus  either  wholly  Being  must  be  or  wholly  must  not  be. 

Never  from  that  which  is  will  the  force  of  Intelligence 
suffer 

Aught  to  become  beyond  itself.  Thence  neither  pro- 
duction 

Neither  destruction  doth  Justice  permit,  ne'er  slacken- 
ing her  fetters; 

But  she  forbids.  And  herein  is  contained  the  decision 
of  these  things; 

Either  there  is  or  is  not;  but  Judgment  declares,  as  it 
needs  must. 

One  of  these  paths  to  be  uncomprehended  and  utterly 
nameless. 

No  true  pathway  at  all,  but  the  other  to  be  and  be  real. 

How  can  that  which  is  now  be  hereafter,  or  how  can  it 
have  been? 


16         SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

For  if  it  hath  been  before,  or  shall  be  hereafter,  it  is 

not: 
Thus   generation    is    quenched   and    decay    surpasseth 

believing. 
Nor  is  there  aught  of  distinct;  for  the  All  is  self -similar 

alway. 
Nor  is  there  anywhere  more  to  debar  it  from  being  un- 
broken ; 
Nor  is  there  an)rwhere  less,  for  the  All  is  sated  with 

Being; 
Wherefore  the  All  is  imbroken,  and  Being  approacheth 

to  Being. 
Moveless,    moreover,    and    bounded    by   great    chains' 

limits  it  lieth. 
Void  of  beginning,  without  any  ceasing,  since  birth  and 

destruction 
Both  have  wandered  afar,  driven  forth  by  the  truth  of 

conviction. 
Same  in  the  same  and  abiding,  and  self  through  itself  it 

reposes. 
Steadfast  thus  it  endureth,  for  mighty  Necessity  holds 

it- 
Holds  it  within  the  chains  of  her  bounds  and  round  doth 

secure  it. 
Wherefore  that  that  which  IS  should  be  infinite  is  not 

permitted ; 
For  it  is  lacking  in  naught,  or  else  it  were  lacking  in  all 

things. 

Steadfastly  yet  in  thy  spirit  regard  things  absent  as 

present; 
Surely  thou  shalt  not  separate  Being  from  clingmg  to 

Bemg, 


THE   ELEATIC   SCHOOL  17 

Nor  shalt  thou  find  it  scattered  at  all  through  the  All 

of  the  Cosmos, 
Nor  yet  gathered  together. 

One  and  the  same  are  thought  and  that  whereby  there  is 

thinking; 
Never  apart  from  existence,  wherein  it  receiveth  ex- 
pression, 
Shalt  thou  discover  the  action  of  thinking;  for  naught 

is  or  shall  be 
Other  besides  or  beyond  the  Existent;  for  Fate  hath 

determined 
That  to  be  lonely  and  moveless,  which  all  things  are  but 

a  name  for — 
Things  that  men  have  set  up  for  themselves,  believing 

as  real 
Birth  and  decay,  becoming  and  ceasing,  to  be  and  to 

not-be. 
Movement  from  place  to  place,  and  change  from  color 

to  color. 
But  since  the  uttermost  limit  of  Being  is  ended  and 

perfect. 
Then  it  is  like  to  the  bulk  of  a  sphere  well-rounded  on  all 

sides. 
Everywhere  distant  alike  from  the  centre;  for  never  there 

can  be 
Anything  greater  or  anything  less,  on  this  side  or  that 

side; 
Yea,  there  is  neither  a  non-existent  to  bar  it  from  coming 
Into  equality,  neither  can  Being  be  different  from  Being, 
More  of  it  here,  less  there,  for  the  All  is  inviolate  ever. 
Therefore,  I  ween,  it  lies  equally  stretched  in  its  limits 

on  all  sides. 


18         SOUROii.   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

And  with  this  I  will  finish  the  faithful  discourse  and  tlie 

thinking 
Touching  the  truth ;  and  now  thou  shalt  learn  the  notions 

of  mortals. 
Learn  and  list  to  the  treach'rous  array  of  the  words  I 

shall  utter.  ' 

III.  On  Opinion 

Men  have  set  up  for  themselves  twin  shapes  to  be  named 

by  Opinion 
(One  they  cannot  set  up,  and  herein  do  they  wander  in 

error), 
And  they  have  made  them  distinct  in  their  nature,  and 

marked  them  with  tokens, 
Opposite  each  unto  each — the  one,  flame's  fire  of  the  ether, 
Gentle,  exceedingly  thin,  and  everywhere  one  and  the 

self-same. 
But  not  the  same  with  the  other;  the  other,  self-similar 

likewise. 
Standing  opposed,  by  itself:  brute  night,  dense  nature 

and  heavy. 
All  the  apparent  system  of  these  will  I  open  before  thee, 
So  that  not  any  opinion  of  mortals  shall  ever  elude  thee. 

All  things  now  being  marked  with  the  names  of  fight  and 

of  darkness. 
Yea,  set  apart  by  the  various  powers  of  the  one  or  the 

other. 
Surely  the  AH  is  at  once  full  of  light  and  invisible  darkness, 
Both  being  equal,  and  naught  being  common  to  one 

with  the  other. 


THE  ELEATIC  SCHOOL  19 

For  out  of  the  formless  fire  are  woven  the  narrower  circlets, 
Those  over  these  out  of  night;  but  a  portion  of  flame 

shooteth  through  them. 
And  in  the  centre  of  all  is  the  Goddess  that  govemeth 

all  things: 
She  unto  all  is  the  author  of  loathsome  birth  and  coition, 
Causing  the  female  to  mix  with  the  male,  and  by  mutual 

impulse 
Likewise  the  male  with  the  female. 

Foremost  of  gods,  she  gave  birth  unto  Love;  yea,  fore- 
most of  all  gods. 

Then  thou  shalt  know  the  ethereal  nature  and  each  of 
its  tokens — 

Each  of  the  signs  in  the  ether,  and  all  the  invisible 
workings 

Wrought  by  the  blemishless  sun's  pure  lamp,  and 
whence  they  have  risen. 

Then  thou  shalt  hear  of  the  orb-eyed  moon's  circumambi- 
ent workmgs, 

And  of  her  nature,  and  likewise  discern  the  heaven  that 
surrounds  them, 

T\Tience  it  arose,  and  how  by  her  sway  Necessity  boimd  it 

Firm,  to  encircle  the  bounds  of  the  stars. 

.  .  .  How  the  earth,  and  the  sun,  and  the  moon,  and 

the  ether 
Common  to  all,  and  the  milk  of  the  sky,  and  the  peak  of 

Ol3nTipus, 
Yea,  and  the  fervent  might  of  the  stars,  were  impelled 

into  being. 


20         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

Circling  the  earth,  with  its  wanderings,  a  borrowed,  a 
night-gleaming  splendor. 

Wistfully  watching  forever,  with  gaze  turned  toward 
the  sunlight. 

Even  as  in  each  one  of  men  is  a  union  of  limbs  many- 
jointed. 

So  there  is  also  in  each  one  a  mind;  for  one  and  the  same 
are 

That  which  is  wise  and  the  nature  generic  of  members 
in  mortals. 

Yea,  imto  each  and  to  all;  for  that  which  prevaileth  is 
thinking. 

Here  on  the  right  hand  the  youths,  and  there  on  the 
left  hand  the  maidens. 

Thus  by  the  strength  of  opinion  were  these  created  and 

now  are. 
Yea,  and  will  perish  hereafter,  as  soon  as  they  grow  imto 

ripeness; 
Men  have  imposed  upon  each  one  of  these  a  name  as  a 

token. 

PLATO    AND    ARISTOTLE    ON    ELEATIC    PHILOSOPHY 

And  ^  our  Eleatic  tribe  of  philosophers,  beginning 
with  Xenophanes — yes  and  earlier,  embodied  this  truth 
in  a  tale,  that  ''all  things,"  so-called,  are  really  one. 

*  * 

Some  ^  have  put  forth  the  opinion  that  the  All  is  a 
single  natural  body  (/xta?  ova-rj^;  (f>v(r€a)^) .     But  they  have 

»  Plato,  Soph.  242  D.  » Aristotle,  Met.  T.  5,  986  b  11. 


THE  ELEATIC  SCHOOL  21 

not  all  expressed  this  opinion  in  the  same  way:  they 
differ  in  excellence  of  statement,  and  also  as  to  what 
that  natural  body  is.  The  account  of  them  lies  quite 
outside  our  present  inquiry  into  causes ;  for  they  do  not, 
like  some  of  the  physical  philosophers,  first  assume 
that  that  which  is  (to  op)  is  a  single  body,  and  then 
produce  things  from  this  single  body  as  from  a  material 
cause.  They  speak  in  a  different  fashion.  The  former 
add  motion,  in  explaining  the  origin  of  the  universe; 
whereas  these  say  that  it  (the  first  principle)  is  immov- 
able. Nevertheless,  so  much  at  least  is  germane  to  our 
present  inquiry:  Parmenides  seems  to  have  grasped  the 
rjj^ity  as  formal  cause  (Kara  rov  \6yov),  Melissus  as 
I  material  cause  [Kara  t7)v  vXtjv).  Accordingly  the  former 
[\  holds  it  to  be  bounded,  the  latter  to  be  boundless. 

Xenophanes,  the  first  of  these  men  to  assert  this  unity, 
Parmenides  being  generally  spoken  of  as  his  disciple, 
made  nothing  very  clear,  and  does  not  seem  to  have 
reached  either  of  the  above  views  of  nature ;  but,  gazing 
up  into  the  broad  heavens,  he  simply  declared :  The  One 
is  god. 

And  so,  as  we  said,  these  men  we  may  pass  over  in 
our  present  inquiry,  two  of  them  without  a  further 
word,  as  being  rather  too  crude,  Xenophanes  and  Melis- 
sus; but  Parmenides  seems  to  speak  at  times  with  keener 
vision. 

/  For,  holding  as  he  does  that  over  and  above  being 
/  there  is  no  such  thing  as  non-bemg,  of  necessity  he  holds 
\  that  being  is  One,  and  that  there  is  nothing  else  existent. 
|(This  subject  we  have  discussed  more  clearly  in  our 
work  on  nature.)  Still,  compelled  to  follow  where  the 
plain  facts  led,  he  supposes  that  whereas  according  to 
reason  things  are  one,  for  sense-perception  they  are  more 


22         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

than  one;  and  he  falls  back  on  the  assumption  that  there 
are  two  causes  and  two  principles,  heat  and  cold,  to  wit, 
fire  and  earth;  and  of  these  the  one,  the  hot,  he  classes 
with  being,  the  other  (the  cold)  with  non-being. 


ZENO 

[Flourished  about  465  B.C.] 

THE    PUZZLES    OF    COMPOSITION    AND    DIVISION 

If  ^  that  which  is,  had  no  magnitude  it  could  not 
even  be.  Everything  that  truly  is  must  needs  have 
magnitude  and  thickness,  and  one  part  of  it  must  be 
separated  from  another  by  a  certain  interval.  And  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  next  smaller  part;  it  too  will 
have  magnitude,  and  a  next  smaller  part.  As  well  say 
this  once  for  all  as  keep  repeating  it  forever.  For  there 
will  be  no  such  part  that  could  serve  as  a  limit.  And 
there  will  never  be  one  part  save  in  reference  to  another 
part.  Thus,  if  the  many  have  being,  they  must  be  both 
large  and  small — so  small  as  to  have  no  size  at  all,  and 
so  large  as  to  be  infinite. 

*  * 

That ''  which  has  neither  magnitude,  thickness,  nor 
bulk  could  not  he  at  all.  'Tor,"  says  Zeno,  'Vere  it 
added  to  anythmg  else  that  is  it  would  not  make  it  one 
whit  larger,  for  it  is  impossible  to  increase  the  magnitude 
of  anything  by  adding  that  which  has  no  magnitude. 
And  this  itself  would  be  enough  to  show  that  what  was 
added  was  nothing.  ...  f  If  when  it  is  taken  away  from 

«  Simpl.  140,  34.     (R.  P.  105  C.    Fr.  2  in  Diels'  arrangement.) 
7  Simpl.  139,  9.     (R.  P.  105  a.     Fr.  1  Dials.) 

t  Assuming  with  Zeller  and  Burnet  that  there  is  a  lacuna  here. 


THE  ELEATIC  SCHOOL  23 

another  thing  that  other  will  be  no  less,  and  when  it  is 
added  to  another  thing  that  other  will  be  no  larger,  it 
is  clear  that  what  was  added  and  what  was  taken  away 
was  nothing  at  all."  * 

If  8  the  absolute  unit  is  indivisible  it  would  be,  ac- 
cording to  Zeno's  axiom,  nothing  at  all.  For  that  which 
neither  makes  anything  larger  by  its  addition,  nor  makes 
anything  smaller  by  its  subtraction,  is  not  one  of  the 
things  that  are,  since  it  is  clear  that  what  is  must  be  a 
magnitude,  and,  if  a  magnitude,  corporeal,  for  the 
corporeal  has  being  in  all  dimensions.  Other  things, 
such  as  the  surface  and  the  line,  when  added  in  one  way 
make  things  larger,  when  added  in  another  way  do  not; 
but  the  point  and  the  unit  do  not  make  things  larger 
however  added.  * 

If  9  things  are  a  many,  there  must  of  necessity  be 
just  so  many  as  there  actually  are,  neither  more  nor  less. 
If,  however,  there  are  just  so  many  as  there  actually  are, 
then  would  they  be  finite  in  number.  (On  the  other 
hand)  If  things  are  a  many,  then  the  things  that  are  are 
infinite  in  number;  for,  between  the  things  that  are  are 
always  other  things,  and  between  them  again  still  other 
things.  And  thus  the  things  that  are  are  infinite  in 
number. 

SPACE    NOT   A    REAL   THING 

If  1^  space  is,  it  will  be  in  something;  for  everything 
that  is  is  in  something;  and  to  be  in  something  is  to  be 
in  space.  Space  then  will  be  in  space,  and  so  on  ad 
infinitum.     Therefore  space  does  not  exist. 

8  Arist.  Met.  II.  4,  1001  b  7.        "  Simpl.  140,  27  (R.  P.  105  b). 
loSimpl.  130-.    562,  3  D  (R.  P.  106). 


24         SOURCE   BOOK   IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

THE    PUZZLES    OF    MOTION 

(1.)  You  t  cannot  traverse  an  infinite  number  of 
points  in  a  finite  time.  You  must  traverse  the  half  of 
any  given  distance  before  you  traverse  the  whole,  and 
the  half  of  that  again  before  you  can  traverse  it.  This 
goes  on  ad  infinitum,  so  that  {if  space  is  made  up  of 
points)  there  are  an  infinite  number  in  any  given  space, 
and  it  cannot  be  traversed  in  a  finite  time. 

(2.)  The  second  argument  is  the  famous  puzzle  of 
Achilles  and  the  tortoise.  Achilles  must  first  reach  the 
place  from  which  the  tortoise  started.  By  that  time  the 
tortoise  will  have  got  on  a  little  way.  Achilles  must  then 
traverse  that,  and  still  the  tortoise  will  be  ahead.  He  is 
always  coming  nearer,  but  he  never  makes  up  to  it. 

(3.)  The  third  argument  against  the  possibility  of 
motion  through  a  space  made  up  of  points  is  that,  on  this 
hypothesis,  an  arrow  in  any  given  moment  of  its  flight 
must  be  at  rest  in  some  particular  point.  ^^ 

"Burnet  adds:  "Aristotle  observes  quite  rightly  that  this  argu- 
ment depends  upon  the  assumption  that  time  is  made  up  of  '  nows/ 
that  is,  of  indivisible  instants.  This  no  doubt,  was  the  Pythagorean 
view." 

With  the  third  argument  as  given  above,  compare  the  following 
saying  of  Zeno  reported  by  Diogenes  Laertius,  IX,  72 :  "  That  which 
moves  can  neither  move  in  the  place  where  it  is,  nor  yet  in  the 
place  where  it  is  not." 

t  Zeno's  arguments  have  been  preserved  by  Aristotle,  Phys. 
VI.  9,  230  b.  They  are,  however,  given  in  a  much  condensed 
form,  being  referred  to  as  matters  of  common  information,  and 
are  introduced  in  order  to  give  Aristotle  an  opportunity  to  criticise 
them.  In  place  of  giving  this  passage  I  have,  therefore,  repro- 
duced the  arguments  in  the  expanded  form  given  them  by  Burnet, 
which  is  a  free  paraphrase  of  Aristotle's  statements,  with  a  few 
interpolations  introduced  for  the  benefit  of  the  modern  reader, 
far  from  the  heat  of  the  controversy,  which  are  amply  justified 
by  Aristotle's  discussions  in  the  Physics.     If  any  doubt  should 


THE  ELEATIC   SCHOOL  25 

(4.)  Suppose  three  parallel  rows  of  points  in  juxta- 
position: 


A 
B 
C 


Fig.  1  Fig.  2 

A 

B  .     .     .     . 

C  .     . 


One  of  these  (B)  is  immovable,  while  A  and  C  move  in 
opposite  directions  with  equal  velocity  so  as  to  come 
into  the  position  represented  in  Fig.  2.  The  movement 
of  C  relatively  to  A  will  be  double  its  movement  relatively 
to  B,  or,  in  other  words,  any  given  point  in  C  has  passed 
twice  as  many  points  in  A  as  it  has  in  B.  It  cannot, 
therefore,  be  the  case  that  an  instant  of  time  corresponds 
to  the  passage  from  one  point  to  another. 

THE  PURPOSE  OF  ZENO's  ARGUMENTS  AS  REPORTED  BY  PLATO 

[In  the  Parmenides  Zeno  is  represented  as  reading  his 
work  to  Socrates  and  a  few  others.  Before  the  conclu- 
sion of  the  reading  Parmenides  enters.  After  Zeno  has 
finished  reading  a  discussion  ensues,  part  of  which  I 
quote. ^2     Socrates  is  speaking:] 

'Tn  all  that  you  say,  Zeno,  have  you  any  other  purpose 
except  to  disprove  the  being  of  the  many  ?  and  is  not  each 
division  of  your  treatise  intended  to  furnish  a  separate 
proof  of  this,  there  being  in  all  as  many  proofs  of  the  not- 
being  of  the  many  as  you  have  composed  arguments? 
Is  that  your  meaning,  or  have  I  misunderstood  you?" 

be  raised  on  this  score  it  could  only  be  with  regard  to  the  fourth 
argument,  but  it  seems  to  me  that  Burnet  and  Tannery  have 
made  good  their  case  here.  See  Burnet,  Early  Greek  Philosophy, 
pp.  331  ff. ;    Tannery,  Science  Hellene,  p.  257. 

"  Parmenides,  127  D.     Jowett's  translation. 


26         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

"No/'  said  Zeno;  ''you  have  correctly  understood  my 
general  purpose." 

"1  see,  Parmenides,"  said  Socrates,  ''that  Zeno  would 
like  to  be  not  only  one  with  you  in  friendship  but  your 
second  seK  in  his  writings  too;  he  puts  what  you  say  in 
another  way,  and  would  fain  make  beheve  that  he  is 
telling  us  something  which  is  new.  For  you,  in  your 
poems,  say.  The  All  is  one,  and  of  this  you  adduce  excel- 
lent  proofs;  and  he  on  the  other  hand  says.  There  is  no 
many;  and  on  behalf  of  this  he  offers  overwhelming 
evidence.  You  affirm  unity,  he  denies  plurality.  And 
so  you  deceive  the  world  into  believing  that  you  are 
saying  different  things  when  really  you  are  saying 
much  the  same.  This  is  a  strain  of  art  beyond  the  reach 
of  most  of  us." 

"Yes,  Socrates,"  said  Zeno.  "But  although  you  are  as 
keen  as  a  Spartan  hound  in  pursuing  the  track,  you  do 
not  fully  apprehend  the  true  motive  of  the  composition, 
which  is  not  really  such  an  artificial  work  as  you  imagine ; 
for  what  you  speak  of  was  an  accident;  there  was  no 
pretence  of  a  great  purpose;  nor  any  serious  intention  of 
deceiving  the  world.  The  truth  is,  that  these  arguments 
of  mine  were  meant  to  protect  the  arguments  of  Par- 
menides  against  those  who  make  fun  of  him  and  seek  to 
show  the  many  ridiculous  and  contradictory  results 
which  they  suppose  to  follow  from  the  affirmation  of  the 
one.  My  answer  is  addressed  to  the  partisans  of  the 
many,  whose  attack  I  return  with  interest  by  retorting 
upon  them  that  their  hypothesis  of  the  being  of  the 
many,  if  carried  out,  appears  to  be  still  more  ridiculous 
than  the  hypothesis  of  the  being  of  the  one.  Zeal  for 
my  master  led  me  to  write  the  book  in  the  days  of  my 
youth,  but  some  one  stole  the  copy;  and  therefore  I  had 


THE  ELEATIC  SCHOOL  27 

no  choice  whether  it  should  be  published  or  not;  the 
motive,  however,  of  writing,  was  not  the  ambition  of  an 
elder  man,  but  the  pugnacity  of  a  young  one.  This  you 
do  not  seem  to  see,  Socrates;  though  in  other  respects, 
as  I  was  saying,  your  notion  is  a  very  just  one." 


HERACLITUS 

[Flourished  about  505  B.C.] 

THE    FRAGMENTS 

l.f  This  Word  (Xo7o<?)tt  is  everlasting,  but  men  are 
unable  to  comprehend  it  before  they  have  heard  it  or  even 
after  they  have  heard  it  for  the  first  time.  Although 
everything  happens  in  accordance  with  this  Word,  they 
behave  like  inexperienced  men  whenever  they  make 
trial  of  words  and  deeds  such  as  I  declare  as  I  analyze 
each  thing  according  to  its  nature  and  show  what  it  is. 
But  other  men  have  no  idea  what  they  are  doing 
when  awake,  just  as  they  forget  what  they  do  when  they 
are  asleep. 

2.  One  ought  to  follow  the  lead  of  that  which  is 
common  to  all  men.  But  although  the  Word  (X0709) 
is  common  to  all,  yet  most  men  live  as  if  each  had  a 
private  wisdom  of  his  own. 

t  The  numbering  of  the  fragments  is  that  of  Diels,  and  I  follow 
his  text  except  where  otherwise  noted. 

tt  Burnet  follows  Zeller  and  translates  X^tos  as  "discourse,"  ren- 
dering the  first  clause :  "Though  this  discourse  is  true  evermore." 
\6yos,  it  is  held,  did  not  mean  "reason"  in  the  time  of  Heraclitus. 
See  Burnet,  p.  133,  n.  13;  Zeller,  I.  p.  572,  n.  2.  Cf.  Teichmuller, 
Neue  Studien,  I.  pp.  170  ff.  Burnet's  position  is  not  free  from  ob- 
jections, and,  in  order  not  to  enter  into  the  controversy,  I  have 
thought  it  best  to  follow  Diels  in  rendering  x6yos  "Word,"  and, 
where  I  have  departed  from  that  rendering,  to  give  the  Greek  term 
also. 

28  ^ 


HERACLITUS  29 

17.  Most  men  have  no  comprehension  even  of  such 
things  as  they  meet  with,  nor  do  they  understand  what 
they  experience  though  they  themselves  think  they  do. 

18.  If  you  do  not  expect  the  imexpected  you  will 
never  find  it,  for  it  is  hard  to  find  and  inaccessible. 

4.  If  happiness  consisted  in  the  pleasures  of  the  body, 
we  should  call  cattle  happy  when  they  find  grass  to  eat. 

5.  Men  seek  in  vain  to  purify  themselves  from  blood- 
guiltiness  by  defiling  themselves  with  blood;  as  if,  when 
one  has  stepped  into  the  mud,  he  should  try  to  wash 
himself  with  mud.  And  I  should  deem  him  mad  who 
should  pay  heed  to  any  man  who  does  such  things. 
And,  forsooth,  they  offer  prayers  to  these  statues  here! 
It  is  as  if  one  should  try  to  converse  with  houses.  They 
know  nothing  of  the  real  nature  of  gods  and  heroes. 

15.  Were  it  not  in  honor  of  Dionysius  that  they  made 
a  procession  and  sang  the  Phallus-song,  it  were  a  most 
shameless  thing  to  do.  Is  Hades  then  the  same  thing 
as  Dionysius  that  they  should  go  mad  in  his  honor  with 
their  bacchanalian  revels? 

22.  They  who  seek  after  gold  dig  up  a  lot  of  earth, 
and  find  a  little. 

23.  Were  there  no  injustice  men  would  never  have 
known  the  name  of  justice. 

24.  Gods  and  men  alike  honor  those  who  fall  in  battle. 

25.  Greater  deaths  receive  greater  rewards. 

(77  Bywater.)  Man  is  kindled  and  put  out  like  a 
Hght  in  the  night  time. 

27.  There  await  men  after  death  things  they  do  not 
expect  nor  dream  of. 

28.  Even  he  who  is  most  highly  esteemed  knows  and 
cherishes  nothing  but  opinions.  And  yet  justice  shall 
surely  overcome  forgers  of  lies  and  false  witnesses. 


30         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

29.  There  is  one  thing  that  the  best  men  prize  above 
all — eternal  glory  above  all  perishable  things.  Most 
men,  however,  stuff  themselves  with  food  hke  cattle. 

30.  This  universe,  the  same  for  all,  no  one,  either  god 
or  man,  has  made;  but  it  always  was,  and  is,  and  ever 
shall  be  an  ever-living  fire,  fixed  measures  kindUng  and 
fixed  measures  dying  out. 

31.  The  transformations  of  fire  are,  first  of  all,  sea;  and 
one-haK  of  the  sea  is  earth  and  half  the  stormy  wind.  .  . 
The  sea  is  dispersed  and  keeps  its  measure  according  to 
the  same  Word  that  prevailed  before  it  became  earth. 

32.  Wisdom  is  one  and  one  only.  It  is  both  willing 
and  unwilling  to  be  called  by  the  name  of  Zeus. 

33.  Law  also  means  to  obey  the  counsel  of  one. 

34.  Fools  even  when  they  hear  the  truth  are  like  deaf 
men.  Of  them  the  proverb  holds  true,  'being  present 
they  are  absent.' 

35.  Right  many  things  must  men  know  who  are  lovers 
of  wisdom. 

36.  For  souls  it  is  death  to  become  water,  for  water 
it  is  death  to  become  earth.  From  the  earth  water 
springs,  and  from  water  soul. 

37.  Swine  like  to  wash  in  the  mire;  barnyard  fowls  in 
dust  and  ashes. 

40.  Much  learning  does  not  teach  wisdom,  else  would 
it  have  taught  Hesiod  and  Pythagoras,  Xenophanes, 
too,  and  Hecataeus. 

41.  Wisdom  is  one  thing.  It  is  to  know  the  thought 
by  which  all  things  through  all  are  guided. 

42.  Homer  ought  to  be  thrown  out  of  the  lists  and 
whipped,  and  Archilochus  too. 

43.  It  is  more  necessary  to  extinguish  wantonness  than 
a  conflagration. 


HERACLITUS  31 

44.  The  people  ought  to  fight  in  defence  of  the  law  as 
they  do  of  their  city  wall. 

45.  You  could  not  discover  the  boundaries  of  the  soul 
though  you  tried  every  path,  so  deep  does  its  reason 
(\o7o?)  reach  down. 

47.  Let  us  not  make  random  conjectures  about  the 
weightiest  matters. 

48.  The  bow  is  called  life,t  but  its  work  is  death. 

49.  One  to  me  is  as  good  as  ten  thousand  if  he  be  but 
the  best. 

50.  It  is  wise  to  hearken  not  to  me,  but  to  the  Word, 
and  to  confess  that  all  things  are  one. 

8.  Opposition  brings  men  together,  and  out  of  discord 
comes  the  fairest  harmony,  and  all  things  have  their 
birth  in  strife. 

51.  Men  do  not  understand  how  that  which  is  torn  in 
different  directions  comes  into  accord  with  itself, — 
harmony  in  contrariety,  as  in  the  case  of  the  bow  and  the 
lyre. 

52.  Time  is  like  a  child  playing  at  draughts;  the 
kingdom  is  a  child's. 

53.  War  is  the  father  of  all  and  the  king  of  all,  and 
some  he  has  made  gods  and  ^me  men,  some  bond  and 
some  free. 

54.  The  hidden  harmony  is  better  than  that  which  is 
obvious. 

57.  Hesiod  is  most  men's  teacher;  they  are  con- 
vinced that  he  knew  nearly  everything, — a  man  who 
didn't  even  know  night  and  day!     For  they  are  one. 

59.  The  straight  and  crooked  path  of  the  fuller's 
comb  is  one  and  the  same. 

60.  The  way  up  and  the  way  down  is  one  and  the  same. 

t  A  play  on  the  words  filos,  life,  and  fii6s,  bow. 


32         SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

61.  The  sea  is  the  purest  and  the  impurest  water; 
fishes  drink  it  and  it  keeps  them  aUve,  men  find  it  unfit 
to  drink  and  even  deadly. 

62.  The  immortal  are  mortal,  the  mortal  immortal, 
each  living  in  the  other's  death  and  dying  in  the  other's 
life. 

67.  God  is  day  and  night,  winter  and  summer,  war 
and  peace,  satiety  and  hunger.  But  he  assumes  various 
forms,  just  as  fire  when  it  is  mingled  with  different  kinds 
of  incense  is  named  according  to  the  savor  of  each. 

72.  From  reason  {\6yo<;)^  the  guide  of  all  things,  with 
which  they  are  most  continually  associated  they  are 
become  estranged ;  and  things  they  meet  with  every  day 
appear  to  them  unfamiliar. 

73.  We  ought  not  to  act  and  speak  like  men  asleep. 
76.  Fire  lives  the  death  of  air,  and  air  the  death  of  fire; 

water  lives  the  death  of  earth,  and  earth  the  death  of 
water. 

(72  Bywater.)     Souls  delight  to  get  wet. 

78.  The  customs  of  men  possess  no  wisdom,  those  of 
the  gods  do. 

79.  Man  is  called  a  child  by  god,  as  a  boy  is  by 
man. 

80.  We  ought  to  know  that  war  is  the  common  lot, 
and  that  justice  is  strife,  and  that  all  things  arise  through 
strife  and  necessity. 

82.  The  most  beautiful  ape  is  ugly  as  compared  with 
the  human  race. 

83.  The  wisest  man  compared  with  god  is  like  an  ape 
in  wisdom,  in  beauty,  and  in  everything  else. 

84.  In  change  one  finds  rest;  and  it  is  weariness  to  be 
always  toiling  at  the  same  things  and  always  beginning 
afresh. 


HERACLITUS  33 

85.  It  is  hard  to  contend  against  the  heart;  for  it  is 
ready  to  sell  the  soul  to  purchase  its  desires. 

86.  For  the  most  part  the  knowledge  of  things  divine 
escapes  us  because  of  our  unbelief. 

87.  The  stupid  man  is  wont  to  be  struck  dumb  at 
every  word. 

88. t  One  and  the  same  thing  are  the  living  and  the 
dead,  the  waking  and  the  sleeping,  the  young  and  the 
old;  the  former  change  and  are  the  latter,  the  latter 
change  in  turn  and  are  the  former. 

89.  Those  who  are  awake  have  one  world  in  common; 
those  who  are  asleep  retire  every  one  to  a  private  world 
of  his  own. 

90.  All  things  are  exchanged  for  fire  and  fire  for  all 
things,  just  as  wares  are  exchanged  for  gold  and  gold  for 
wares. 

O-tt  All  things  flow;  nothing  abides. 

91.  One  cannot  step  twice  into  the  same  river. 

(81  By  water.)  Into  the  same  rivers  we  step  and  we 
do  not  step;  we  are  and  we  are  not. 

94.  The  sun  will  not  overstep  his  measures,  else  would 
the  Erinnyes,  the  handmaids  of  justice,  find  him  out. 

92.  The  sibyl  with  raving  lips  uttering  things  solemn, 
unadorned  and  rude,  reaches  with  her  voice  over  a 
thousand  years  because  of  the  god  that  inspires  her. 

93.  The  lord  whose  oracle  is  in  Delphi  neither  reveals 
nor  conceals  but  indicates. 

95.  It  is  best  to  hide  one's  folly,  but  it  is  hard  when 
relaxed  over  the  wine  cups. 

t  Following  the  text  of  Bywater  here. 

ft  Though  this  cannot  be  proved  to  be  a  quotation  from  Hera- 
clitus,  nothing  is  more  certainly  Heraclitean  than  the  view  it 
expresses.  It  is  repeatedly  referred  to  both  by  Plato  and  by 
Aristotle. 


34         SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

97.  Dogs  bark  at  every  one  whom  they  do  not  know. 

101.  I  have  sought  to  understand  myself. 

102.  To  god  all  things  are  beautiful  and  good  and 
right;  men  deem  some  things  wrong  and  some  right. 

103.  In  the  circumference  of  a  circle  beginning  and 
end  coincide. 

104.  What  wisdom,  what  understanding  is  theirs? 
They  put  their  trust  in  bards  and  take  the  mob  for  their 
teacher,  not  knowing  that  many  are  bad  and  few  good. 

106.  One  day  is  like  another. 

107.  Eyes  and  ears  are  bad  witnesses  to  men  who 
have  not  an  understanding  heart. 

108.  No  one  of  all  the  men  whose  words  I  have  heard 
has  arrived  at  the  knowledge  that  wisdom  is  something 
apart  from  all  other  things. 

110.  It  were  not  good  for  men  that  all  their  wishes 
should  be  fulfilled. 

111.  It  is  disease  that  makes  health  pleasant;  evil, 
good;  hunger,  plenty;  weariness,  rest. 

112.  Wisdom  is  the  foremost  virtue,  and  wisdom 
consists  in  speaking  the  truth,  and  in  lending  an  ear  to 
nature  and  acting  according  to  her. 

113-14.  Wisdom  is  common  to  all.  .  .  .  They  who 
would  speak  with  intelhgence  must  hold  fast  to  the 
[wisdom  that  is]  common  to  all,  as  a  city  holds  fast  to 
its  law,  and  even  more  strongly.  For  all  human  laws 
are  fed  by  one  divine  law,  which  prevaileth  as  far  as 
it  listeth  and  suffices  for  all  things  and  excels  all  things. 

116.  It  is  in  the  power  of  all  men  to  know  themselves 
and  to  practise  temperance. 

117.  A  man  when  he  is  drunk  is  led  about  by  a  beard- 
less boy;  he  reels  along  paying  no  heed  where  he  goes, 
for  his  soul  is  wet. 


HERACLITUS  36 

118.  A  dry  soul  is  the  wisest  and  the  best. 

119.  Man's  character  is  his  fate. 

121".  The  Ephesians  would  do  well  to  hang  themselves, 
every  man  of  them,  and  to  leave  the  city  to  beardless 
boys.  For  they  banished  Hermodorus,  the  best  man  of 
them  all,  declaring:  We  will  have  no  best  man  among 
us;  if  there  be  any  such  let  him  be  so  elsewhere  and 
amongst  other  men. 

123.  Nature  loves  to  hide. 

126.  It  is  the  cold  things  that  become  warm,  the  warm 
that  become  cold,  the  moist  that  become  dry,  and  the 
dry  that  become  moist. 

129.  Pythagoras  the  son  of  Mnesarchus  pursued  his 
investigations  further  than  all  other  men,  ...  he  made 
himself  a  wisdom  of  his  own, — much  learning,  bad  sci- 
ence. 


IV 
THE  PYTHAGOREAN  PHILOSOPHY  f 

THE     NUMBER     PHILOSOPHY     OF    THE     PYTHAGOREANS 

At  1  this  time  and  even  earlier  ft  the  so-called  Pythag- 
oreans applied  themselves  to  mathematics  and  were  the 
first  to  advance  this  branch  of  knowledge,  and  spending 
all  their  time  in  these  pursuits  they  came  to  think  that 
the  first  principles  of  mathematics  were  the  first  prin- 
ciples of  all  things  that  exist.  And  inasmuch  as  num- 
bers are  what  is  naturally  first  in  this  field,  and  since 
they  thought  they  discovered  in  nimabers  a  great  many 
more  similarities  with  things  that  exist  and  that  arise 
in  the  processes  of  nature  than  one  could  find  in  fire  or 
earth  or  water,  they  thought,  for  example,  that  such  and 
such  a  property  of  numbers  was  justice,  another  the 
soul  and  reason,  another  opportunity,  and  in  the  same 
way  of  practically  everything  else ;  and  inasmuch  as  they 
saw  in  numbers  the  properties  and  proportions  of  the 
different  kinds  of  harmonies,  and  since  all  other  things  so 
far  as  their  entire  nature  is  concerned  were  modelled 
upon  numbers,  whereas  numbers  are  prior  to  anything 
else  in  nature, — from  ail  this  they  inferred  that  the  first 

»  Arist.  Met.  I.  5,  985  b  23. 

t  Pythagoras  flourished  about  530  b.c.  ;  Philolaus  about  440. 
The  number  philosophy  of  the  Pythagoreans  seems  to  have  been 
fully  developed  by  the  time  of  Philolaus. 

ft  Aristotle  has  just  been  speaking  of  Empedocles,  Leucippu,3 
and  Democritus. 

36 


THE   PYTHAGOREAN   PHILOSOPHY  37 

elements  of  numbers  were  the  first  elements  of  all  things 
that  exist,  and  that  the  whole  heaven  was  a  harmony 
and  a  mmiber.  And  so  all  the  analogies  they  could  point 
to  between  numbers  and  harmonies  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  properties  and  divisions  and  the  whole  arrangement 
of  the  heavens  on  the  other  hand,  these  they  would 
collect  and  piece  together,  and  if  any  gap  appeared  any- 
where they  would  greedily  seek  after  something  to  fill 
it,  in  order  that  their  entire  system  might  be  coherent. 
For  example,  since  they  thought  that  the  number  ten 
was  a  perfect  thing  and  included  all  other  numbers  they 
affirmed  that  the  heavenly  bodies  must  also  be  ten  in 
number,  but  inasmuch  as  only  nine  are  visible  they 
invented  a  tenth,  which  they  called  the  counter-earth. 

These  philosophers  evidently  regarded  number  as  the 
first  principle,  both  as  being  the  material  cause  of  things 
that  exist  and  as  describing  their  qualities  and  states  as 
well.  And  the  elements  of  number  they  described  as 
the  odd  and  the  even,  the  former  being  limited  and  the 
latter  unlimited;  and  the  number  one  they  thought 
was  composed  of  both  of  these  elements  (for  it  is  both 
even  and  odd)  and  from  the  number  one  all  other 
nimibers  spring,  and  the  whole  heavens  are  simply 
numbers. 

Others  of  the  same  school  assume  ten  first  principles 
which  they  arrange  in  parallel  rows: 


limit 

unlimited 

at  rest 

in  motion 

odd 

even 

straight 

crooked 

one 

many 

light 

darkness 

right 

left 

good 

evil 

masculine 

feminine 

square 

oblong 

Alcmseon  of  Croton  seems  also  to  have  shared  this 
view,  and  indeed  either  he  got  this  theory  from  them  or 


38         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

they  from  him,  which  latter  is  possible  for  Alcmseon 
was  a  younger  contemporary  of  Pythagoras,  and  he 
expressed  views  very  much  hke  those  of  the  Pythag- 
oreans, for  he  said  that  most  human  affairs  are  two- 
phased;  but  he  did  not  clearly  define  the  opposites,  as 
they  did,  but  took  them  just  as  they  came — white, 
black;  sweet,  bitter;  good,  evil;  large,  small.  With 
regard  to  the  rest  he  vaguely  threw  out  a  few  random 
opinions;  the  Pythagoreans  on  the  other  hand  tell  us 
just  how  many  and  what  the  opposites  are. 

So  much  at  least  we  can  gather  from  both  of  these 
schools,  that  the  opposites  are  the  principles  of  things 
that  are;  and  from  one  of  them  we  can  learn  how  many 
and  what  these  opposites  are.  But  how  it  is  possible  to 
bring  their  view  back  to  the  causes  which  we  have  our- 
selves laid  down  is  a  matter  that  has  not  been  clearly 
and  definitely  stated  by  them.  Apparently  they  put 
their  elements  under  the  head  of  material  cause;  for 
they  say  that  it  is  from  these  elements  as  already 
existent  that  substance  arises  and  that  it  is  composed  of 
them.  * 

The  2  so-called  Pythagoreans  employ  first  principles 
and  elements  more  unusual  than  those  of  the  physical 
philosophers,  the  reason  being  that  they  do  not  derive 
them  from  objects  of  sense:  for  the  realities  with  which 
mathematics  deals,  if  we  except  those  of  astronomy, 
do  not  partake  of  motion.  None  the  less  they  discuss 
and  elaborate  views  about  nature  in  all  its  aspects;  they 
account  for  the  origin  of  the  heavens,  and  with  regard 
to  its  parts  and  its  attributes  and  its  activities,  closely 
observing  what  happens,  they  apply  their  first  principles 

2  Arist.  Met  I.  8,  989  b  29. 


THE  PYTHAGOREAN   PHILOSOPHY  39 

and  causes  to  the  explanation  of  these  things,  just  as 
if  they  were  m  entire  accord  with  the  physical  philoso- 
phers in  holding  that  existence  belongs  only  to  that 
which  can  be  perceived  by  sense  and  which  is  comprised 
within  what  we  call  the  heavens.  But,  as  we  have  said, 
they  introduce  causes  and  first  principles  which  are 
adapted  to  lead  them  to  a  higher  order  of  realities,  and 
indeed  are  more  suitable  for  that  purpose  than  for  the 
explanation  of  nature.  But  from  what  sort  of  a  cause 
movement  arises,  the  limit  and  the  unhmited,  the  odd 
and  the  even  being  their  only  presuppositions, — they 
say  nothing  of  this,  nor  do  they  tell  us  how  it  is  possible 
that,  apart  from  motion  and  change,  there  should  be 
generation  and  destruction  or  the  revolutions  of  the 
heavenly  bodies. 

Moreover,  if  we  grant  them  their  contention  that  size 
arises  from  these  elements,  if  we  assume  they  have  made 
this  out,  still  the  question  remains  how  it  happens  that 
some  bodies  should  be  heavy  and  others  light,  for  ac- 
cording to  the  principles  which  they  presuppose,  and 
from  what  they  say  about  them,  they  are  no  leas  ap- 
plicable to  the  things  of  sense  than  they  are  to  the  ob- 
jects with  which  mathematics  is  concerned.  And  this 
is  how  it  happens  that  they  have  said  nothing  about 
fire  or  earth  or  bodies  of  that  sort,  not  having,  as  I 
suppose,  anything  to  say  that  was  specially  applicable 
to  things  of  sense.  Further,  how  is  it  possible  to  assume 
that  the  cause  of  everything  that  exists  under  the 
heavens  and  all  that  has  come  into  being  from  the 
beginning  down  to  the  present  day  is  simply  the  proper- 
ties of  number  and  number  itself,  if  at  the  same  time 
there  is  no  other  kind  of  number  except  precisely  that 
out  of  which  the  heavens  are  composed?    For  when  in 


40  SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

such  and  such  a  part  of  the  number  series  they  have 
found  '  opinion/  or,  possibly,  '  opportunity/  and  again 
a  httle  higher  up  or  a  little  lower  down,  '  injustice,'  or 
'judgment,'  or  'mixture,'  and  when  they  have  given 
us  their  proofs  that  every  one  of  these  things  is  a  num- 
ber, .  .  .  the  question  arises  whether  the  number  which 
we  are  to  suppose  each  one  of  these  things  to  be  is 
identical  with  the  number  which  is  foimd  in  the  heavens, 
or  whether  it  is  some  other  kind  of  a  number  over  and 
above  this. 

THE    PYTHAGOREAN    GOLDEN   WORDS  f 

The  gods  immortal,  as  by  law  disposed. 
First  venerate,  and  reverence  the  oath : 
Then  to  the  noble  heroes,  and  the  powers 
Beneath  the  earth,  do  homage  with  just  rites. 

Thy  parents  honor  and  thy  nearest  kin. 

And  from  the  rest  choose  friends  on  virtue's  scale. 

To  gentle  words  and  kindly  deeds  give  way, 

Nor  hate  thy  friend  for  any  slight  offence. 

Bear  all  thou  canst;  for  Can  dwells  nigh  to  Must. 

These  things  thus  know. 

What  follow  learn  to  rule: 
The  belly  first,  then  sleep  and  lust  and  wrath. 

t  A  word  of  caution.  In  inserting  the  "  Golden  Words  "  at  this 
point  I  do  not  mean  to  imply  that  they  date  from  the  time  of 
the  early  Pythagoreans.  It  is  now  generally  recognized  that  they 
have  a  much  later  origin.  The  earliest  explicit  mention  of  them  is 
found  in  the  third  century  b.c.  But  before  the  time  of  Plato  the 
"  Pythagorean  Way  of  Life  "  had  become  proverbial,  and  I  insert 
the  "  Golden  Words  "  here  as  giving  a  clear  picture  of  what  in  later 
times  at  least  the  Pythagorean  Way  of  Life  had  come  to  represent. 
The  translation  is  that  of  Thomas  Davidson,  published  in  his 
Aristotle  and  Ancient  Educational  Ideals. 


THE  PYTHAGOREAN   PHILOSOPHY  41 

Do  nothing  base  with  others  or  alone: 
But  most  of  all  thyself  in  reverence  hold. 

Then  practise  justice  both  in  deed  and  word, 
Nor  let  thyself  wax  thoughtless  about  aught: 
But  know  that  death's  the  common  lot  of  all. 

Be  not  untimely  wasteful  of  thy  wealth, 
Like  vulgar  men,  nor  yet  illiberal. 
In  all  things  moderation  answers  best. 

Do  things  that  profit  thee :  think  ere  thou  act. 

Let  never  sleep  thy  drowsy  eyelids  greet, 

Till  thou  hast  pondered  each  act  of  the  day : 

'  Wherein  have  I  transgressed?    What  have  I  done? 

What  duty  shunned?  ' — beginning  from  the  first. 

Unto  the  last.     Then  grieve  and  fear  for  what 

Was  basely  done;  but  in  the  good  rejoice. 

These  thmgs  perform;  these  meditate;  these  love. 
These  in  the  path  of  godlike  excellence 
Will  place  thee,  yea,  by  Him  who  gave  our  souls 
The  number  Four,  perennial  nature's  spring! 
But,  ere  thou  act,  crave  from  the  gods  success. 

These  precepts  having  mastered,  thou  shalt  know 

The  system  of  the  never-dying  gods 

And  dying  men,  and  how  from  all  the  rest 

Each  thing  is  sundered,  and  how  held  in  one : 

And  thou  shalt  know,  as  it  is  right  thou  shouldst. 

That  nature  everywhere  is  uniform, 

And  so  shalt  neither  hope  for  things  that  lie 

Beyond  all  hope,  nor  fail  of  any  truth. 


42         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

But  from  such  food  abstain  as  we  have  named, 
And,  while  thou  seek'st  to  purge  and  free  thy  soul, 
Use  judgment,  and  reflect  on  everything, 
Setting  o  'er  all  best  Thought  as  charioteer. 

Be  glad  to  gather  goods,  nor  less  to  lose. 

Of  human  ills  that  spring  from  spirit-powers 
Endure  thy  part  nor  peevishly  complain. 
Cure  what  thou  canst:  'tis  well,  and  then  reflect: 
'Tate  never  lays  too  much  upon  the  good." 

Words  many,  brave  and  base,  assail  men's  ears. 
Let  these  not  disconcert  or  trammel  thee; 
But  when  untruth  is  spoken,  meekly  yield. 

What  next  I  say  in  every  act  observe: 
Let  none  by  word  or  deed  prevail  on  thee 
To  do  or  say  what  were  not  best  for  thee. 
Think  ere  thou  act,  lest  f ooUsh  things  be  done ; — 
For  thoughtless  deeds  and  words  the  caitiff  mark;-- 
But  strongly  do  what  will  not  bring  regret. 
Do  naught  thou  dost  not  know;  but  duly  learn. 
So  shall  thy  life  with  happiness  o'erflow. 

Be  not  neglectful  of  thy  body's  health; 
But  measure  use  in  drink,  food,  exercise — 
I  mean  by  '^  measure''  what  brings  no  distress. 

Follow  a  cleanly,  simple  mode  of  life. 
And  guard  against  such  acts  as  envy  breed. 
Then,  if,  when  thou  the  body  leav'st,  thou  mount 
To  the  free  ether,  deathless  shalt  thou  be, 
A  god  immortal, — mortal  never  more! 


EMPEDOCLES 

[Flourished  about  455  B.C.] 

THE    FRAGMENTS 

4.t  ...  But  come,  use  all  the  hands  of  sense  in 
grasping  each  thing  in  the  way  that  it  is  clear.  Do  not 
put  greater  confidence  in  what  thou  seest  than  in  what 
thou  hearest,  nor  trust  a  loud  noise  more  than  the  things 
that  the  tongue  makes  clear;  and  do  not  withhold  thy 
confidence  in  any  of  the  other  hands  which  open  a  way 
to  knowledge;  but  know  each  thing  in  the  way  it  is  clear. 

6.  Hear  first  the  four  roots  of  all  things:  brightly 
shining  Zeus,  life-bringing  Hera,  Aidoneus,  and  Nestis 
who  bedews  with  her  tears  the  well-spring  of  mortals. 

8.  And  another  thing  I  shall  tell  thee:  of  no  one  of 
all  the  things  that  perish  is  there  any  birth,  nor  any  end 
in  baneful  death.  There  is  only  a  mingling  and  a 
separation  of  what  has  been  mingled.  But  ^' birth"  is 
the  name  men  use  for  this. 

11.  Fools!  Short  is  the  reach  of  their  thinking  who 
suppose  that  what  before  was  not  comes  into  being,  or 
that  anything  perishes  and  is  utterly  destroyed. 

12.  For  it  is  inconceivable  that  anything  should  arise 
from  that  which  in  no  way  exists,  and  it  is  impossible, 
and  a  thing  unheard  of,  that  what  exists  should  perish, 
for  it  will  always  be  wherever  one  in  every  case  puts  it. 

1 1  follow  the  text  of  Diels  except  where  otherwise  noted,  and  give 
his  numbering  of  the  fragments. 

43 


44         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

17.  .  .  .  Come  hearken  to  my  words,  for  learning 
adds  strength  to  thy  mind.  As  I  said  before,  when  I  un- 
folded the  chief  points  of  my  discourse,  twofold  is  the 
truth  I  shall  disclose.  At  one  time  things  grew  to  be 
one  alone  out  of  many;  ana  then  again  [this]  fell  asunder 
so  that  there  were  many  from  the  one, — fire  and  water  and 
earth  and  the  endless  height  of  the  air;  and,  apart  from 
these,  baneful  Strife,  with  equal  weight  throughout, 
and  in  their  midst  Love,  equally  distributed  in  length 
and  breadth.  Let  thy  mind's  gaze  rest  upon  her,  nor 
sit  with  dazed  eyes.  It  is  she  that  is  held  to  be  implanted 
in  the  parts  of  mortals;  it  is  she  who  awakens  thoughts 
of  love  and  fulfils  the  works  of  peace.  They  call  her 
by  the  name  of  Delight  and  Aphrodite.  No  mortal  man 
has  searched  her  out  as  she  swirls  around  in  [the  ele- 
ments]. But  do  thou  hearken  to  the  guileless  course  of 
my  argument.  For  all  these  [elements]  are  equal  and 
of  like  age.  Each  one  has  a  different  office,  each  has 
its  own  character,  but  as  time  runs  on  they  win  in  turn 
the  upper  hand.  And  besides  them  nothing  is  added, 
nothing  taken  away.  For  were  they  being  continually 
destroyed  they  would  no  longer  exist.  But  what  could 
increase  this  All,  and  whence  could  it  come?  And 
whither  could  these  elements  pass  away,  since  there  is 
no  place  bereft  of  them?  No,  they  are  the  same,  but 
as  they  penetrate  each  other,  sometimes  one  thing 
arises,  sometimes  another,  and  continuously  and  to  all 
eternity  they  are  the  same. 

35.  .  .  .  When  Strife  had  fallen  to  the  lowest  depth 
of  the  vortex,  and  Love  hae  ome  to  be  in  the  centre  of 
the  whirl,  all  things  came  together  in  Love  so  as  to  be 
one  only, — not  all  at  once,  but  coming  together  at  their 
pleasure,  one  from  this  quarter,  one  from  that.    And 


EMPEDOCLES  45 

as  they  came  together  Strife  retired  to  the  outermost 
boimdary.f  But  many  things  unmixed  remained, 
alternating  with  the  things  that  were  mixed,  as  many 
as  Strife,  still  remaining  on  high,  retained  in  its  grasp; 
for  it  had  not  yet  blamelessly  retired  altogether  to  the 
outermost  boundaries  of  the  circle.  Partly  it  still 
remained  within,  and  partly  it  had  separated  from  the 
elements.  But  just  in  proportion  as  it  was  continuously 
rushing  out  a  gracious  and  divine  impulse  of  blameless 
Love  kept  ever  coming  in.  And  straightway  things  grew 
mortal  that  were  wont  to  be  immortal  before,  and  things 
before  unmixed  were  mixed,  changing  their  ways  of  Ufe. 
And  from  these  as  they  were  mingled  the  countless  tribes 
of  mortal  creatures  poured  forth,  fashioned  in  all  manner 
of  forms,  a  wonder  to  behold. 

82.  Hair  and  leaves  and  the  thick  feathers  of  birds  and 
the  scales  that  grow  on  tough  limbs  are  the  same  thing. 

100.  In  this  wise  do  all  breathe  in  and  out.  All  have 
bloodless  tubes  of  flesh  stretched  over  the  surface  of  the 
body,  and  at  their  mouths  is  the  outermost  surface  of 
the  skin  pierced  with  pores  closely  packed  so  that  the 
blood  is  kept  in,  while  an  easy  way  is  cut  for  the  air 
through  the  openings.  Then,  whenever  the  smooth 
blood  rushes  back,  the  blustering  air  rushes  in  with  a 
furious  surge,  and  when  the  blood  springs  back,  the  air 
is  breathed  out  again.  As  when  a  girl  playing  with  a 
klepsydra  of  shinmg  brass,  as  long  as  she  holds  the 
mouth  of  the  pipe  pressed  against  her  comely  hand 
and  dips  it  in  the  smooth  mass  of  silvery  water,  the 
water  does  not  flow  into  the  vessel,  but  the  weight  of  the 
air  inside  as  it  presses  on  the  closely  packed  pores  keeps 

t  Following  Stein^s  arrangement  instead  of  repeating,  as  Diels 
and  Carsten  do,  a  line  given  below. 


46         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

it  back,  until  she  uncovers  the  compressed  stream  [of 
air].  Then,  however,  as  the  air  escapes,  a  correspondmg 
mass  of  water  flows  in.  And  so  in  the  same  way  when 
water  fills  the  hollow  of  the  brazen  vessel,  and  the  neck 
or  opening  is  stopped  by  the  human  hand,  the  air  outside 
which  strives  to  get  in  holds  back  the  water  at  the 
gates  of  the  narrow  gurgling  passage,  holding  possession 
of  the  end,  imtil  she  lets  go  with  her  hand.  Then,  on 
the  contrary,  the  opposite  of  what  happened  before 
takes  place,  and  as  the  air  rushes  m  a  corresponding 
mass  of  water  rushes  out.  Just  so,  when  the  smooth- 
blood  that  courses  through  the  limbs  turns  backward 
and  rushes  into  the  interior,  straightway  the  stream  of 
air  comes  surging  in,  and  when  the  blood  crowds  back 
the  air  breathes  out  again,  retracing  its  steps. 

109.  For  with  earth  we  perceive  earth,  with  water, 
water,  with  air,  the  air  divme,  and  with  fire,  the  devour- 
ing fire,  and  love  we  perceive  by  means  of  love,  hate  by 
means  of  dismal  hate. 

133.  We  cannot  bring  God  near  so  as  to  reach  him 
with  our  eyes  or  lay  hold  of  him  with  our  hands — the 
[two  ways]  along  which  the  chief  highway  of  persuasion 
leads  into  the  mind  of  man. 

134.  For  he  has  no  human  head  attached  to  bodily 
members,  nor  do  two  branching  arms  dangle  from  his 
shoulders;  he  has  neither  feet  nor  swift  knees  nor  any 
hairy  parts.  No,  he  is  only  mind,  sacred  and  ineffable  mind, 
flashing  through  the  whole  universe  with  swift  thoughts. 

SECONDARY   SOURCES 

He  [Empedocles]  ^  makes  the  material  elements  four 
in  number;  fire,  air,  earth,  and  water.     These  are  eternal, 

1  Theophrastus,  Phys.  Ojnn.  3  (Dox.  478). 


EMPEDOCLES  47 

but  they  change  in  size — are  large  or  small — through 
•composition  and  separation.  But,  accurately  speaking, 
he  makes  the  first  principles  love  and  strife,  for  by  them 
the  others  are  set  in  motion.  For  the  elements  must 
continually  be  set  in  motion  by  each  of  the  two  in  its 
turn,  now  being  united  by  love,  and  anon  separated  by 
strife.  Consequently  there  are  according  to  him  six 
first  principles. 

Empedocles  speaks  in  the  same  way  of  all  the  senses, 
and  says  that  we  perceive  through  [effluences]  fitting 
into  the  pores  of  each  sense.  And  that  is  why  one  sense 
cannot  pick  out  the  objects  of  another,  for  the  pores  of 
some  are  too  wide  and  of  others  too  narrow  w^ith  reference 
to  the  object  of  sense,  so  that  the  [effluences]  either  go 
through  untouched  or  are  unable  to  enter  at  all. 

He  tries,  too,  to  explain  the  nature  of  the  eye.  He 
says  that  its  interior  is  fire  [and  water].  This  is  sur- 
rounded by  earth  and  watery  vapor  through  which  the 
fire  passes  like  the  light  in  lanterns.  The  pores  of  fire 
and  water  are  arranged  alternately.  And  we  perceive 
fight  objects  by  means  of  the  pores  of  fire,  dark  objects 
by  means  of  those  of  water.  The  objects  in  each  case 
fit  the  corresponding  pores,  and  the  colors  are  carried 
into  the  eye  by  effluences. 

.  .  .  Hearing,  he  says,  is  caused  by  sounds  outside. 
For  when  [the  air]  is  set  in  motion  by  the  voice  there  is 
a  sound  in  the  ear,  for  hearing  is  Uke  a  beU  sounding  in 
the  ear  which  he  calls  a  ''fleshy  nodule."  And  the  air 
when  set  in  motion  strikes  on  the  soHd  parts  and  makes 
a  soimd. 

Smell  comes  from  breathing,  and  that  is  why  those 
whose  respiratory  movement  is  most  violent  have  the 
keenest  sense  of  smefl,  and  why  light  and  subtle  bodies 


48         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

exhale  the  strongest  odors.  As  for  taste  and  touch  he 
does  not  explain  how  or  by  what  means  they  arise, 
except  to  give  the  general  explanation  that  sensation 
is  due  to  [effluences]  fitting  into  the  pores. 

Pleasure  is  produced  by  what  is  like,  in  the  parts  of 
the  body  and  in  the  mixtures,  pain  by  what  is  unlike. 

*  * 

And  2  he  gives  a  similar  account  of  knowledge  and 
ignorance.  Thinking,  he  says,  is  caused  by  what  is  like, 
being  ignorant,  by  what  is  unlike,  speaking  as  if  thinking 
were  the  same  as  sensation,  or  very  much  like  it. 

*  * 

Moreover  ^    Anaxagoras   and   Empedocles    say    that 

[plants]  are  set  in  motion  by  desire,  and  that  they  per- 
ceive, and  feel  pleasure  and  pain. 

*** 
.  .  .  Anaxagoras,^  Democritus  and  Empedocles  say 
that  [plants]  have  mind  and  intelhgence. 

*  * 

Empedocles  ^  was  of  the  opinion  that  sex  had  been 

mixed  in  them.  * 

*  * 

Again  ^  Empedocles  says  that  plants  come  into  being 
in  an  inferior  world  that  is  not  perfect  in  its  completion, 
and  when  it  is  completed  the  animal  comes  into  being. 

*  * 

And  7  so  Empedocles  was  wrong  when  he  said  that 
animals  have  many  characteristics  because  it  just  hap- 
pens so  in  their  genesis,  as,  for  example,  that  they  have 
such  a  vertebrated  spine  because  it  fell  to  their  lot  to  be 
descended  from  one  that  bent  around. 

2  Theophrast.   De  Sens.  (Dox.  500). 

3  Pseudo-Arist.  Ds  Plant.  815  a  15. 

*Ib.  815  b  16.  « lb.  817  b  35  (cf.  D.  173). 

5lb.  815  a  20.  '  Arist.  De  Part.  An.  640  a  19. 


VI 
ANAXAGORAS 

[Flourished  about  460  B.C.] 

THE    FRAGMENTS 

l.f  All  things  were  together,  in  number  and  in 
smallness  without  limit,  for  the  small,  too,  was  without 
limit.  And  as  long  as  all  things  were  together  no  one 
of  them  could  be  clearly  distinguished,  because  of  their 
smallness.  Yes,  and  air  and  ether,  both  being  infinite, 
dominated  all  things,  for  they  are  the  biggest  things  in 
the  universe  both  in  quantity  and  in  size. 

4.  And  this  being  so  one  must  suppose  that  many 
things  and  of  all  sorts  coexist  in  all  [the  worlds]  that 
are  brought  together — seeds  of  all  things,  having  all 
sorts  of  forms  and  colors  and  savors.  And  (in  all 
these  worlds)  men  have  been  put  together,  and  all 
animals  that  have  life;  and  these  men  possess  inhabited 
cities  and  tilled  fields,  as  we  do;  and  they  have  a  sun 
and  moon  and  other  heavenly  bodies,  as  we  have;  and 
their  earth  brings  forth  many  plants  and  of  all  sorts, 
the  most  serviceable  of  which  they  garner  and  use  for 
their  sustenance.  This  then  is  the  view  that  I  have  put 
forward  with  regard  to  the  differentiation  [of  the  primal 
mixture], — that  it  takes  place  not  with  us  alone  but  also 
elsewhere. 

1 1  follow  the  text  as  given  by  Diels,  with  a  few  exceptions  which 
are  noted,  and  have  given  his  numbering  of  the  fragments, 

49 


50         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Before  these  things  were  differentiated,  when  all  things 
were  still  together,  there  was  not  even  any  color  clearly 
distinguishable,  for  the  mixture  of  all  things  prevented 
it, — of  the  moist  and  the  dry,  the  warm  and  the  cold,  the 
bright  and  the  dark.  (And  there  was  much  earth  too  in 
the  mixture  f)  and  an  endless  multitude  of  seeds,  no  one 
like  another. 

5.  We  must  know  that  when  these  things  are  separated 
one  from  another  the  whole  is  neither  more  nor  less 
[than  it  was  before],  for  it  is  impossible  that  there  should 
be  more  than  the  whole,  but  the  whole  is  always  equal 
to  itself. 

17.  We  Greeks  are  wrong  in  using  the  expressions  ''  to 
come  into  being"  and  "to  be  destroyed,"  for  no  thing 
comes  into  being  or  is  destroyed.  Rather,  a  thing  is 
mixed  with  or  separated  from  already  existing  things. 
And  so  it  would  be  more  accurate  to  say,  instead  of 
origin,  commingling;  instead  of  destruction,  dissolution. 

6.  And  since  the  parts  of  the  great  and  of  the  small 
are  equal  in  number,  this  is  another  reason  for  holding 
that  all  things  are  in  everything.  Nor  is  it  possible  for 
one  of  the  parts  to  exist  in  isolation  from  the  rest,  but 
everything  includes  a  portion  of  everything.  Since  it 
is  impossible  that  there  should  be  any  least  part  no 
portion  can  be  isolated,  or  come  to  be  by  itself,  but  as  at 
the  beginning,  so  now,  all  things  are  together.  And  in 
everything  that  has  been  differentiated,  in  what  is 
largest  as  in  what  is  smallest,  many  things  are  contained, 
and  an  equal  number. 

8.  Nor  are  the  things  that  exist  in  one  and  the  same 
world  isolated,  or  chopped  off  from  one  another  as  with 

t  This  clause  does  not  seem  to  belong  in  this  context.  The  text  is 
possibly  corrupt.     See  Burnet,  p.  285,  note. 


ANAXAGORAS  51 

a  hatchet — the  warm  from  the  cold  or  the  cold  from  the 
warm. 

10.  For  how  could  hair  come  from  what  is  not  hair, 
flesh  from  what  is  not  flesh? 

9.  .  .  .  while  these  things  are  thus  swirling  around 
and  becoming  differentiated  by  force  and  velocity. 
And  the  velocity  gives  the  force.  But  their  velocity 
is  not  to  be  compared  to  the  velocity  of  anything  in  our 
present  world.     It  is  in  every  way  many  times  as  swift. 

15.  The  dense  and  the  moist,  the  cold  and  the  dark, 
crowded  together  where  the  earth  now  is;  the  rare,  the 
warm,  the  dry,  and  the  bright,  f  travelled  out  into  the 
far-off  ether. 

16.  And  from  these  as  they  were  differentiated  the 
earth  was  fashioned.  For  from  the  clouds  water  is 
separated  off,  from  the  water,  earth ;  and  from  the  earth 
stones  are  solidified  by  the  influence  of  the  cold,  and  they 
travel  out  still  farther  from  the  water. 

11.  In  everything  there  is  a  portion  of  everything 
except  mind.  There  are  some  things  in  which  there  is 
mind  also. 

12.  All  other  things  contain  a  portion  of  everything, 
but  mind  is  infinite  and  self-ruled  and  is  mixed  with 
nothing.  For  if  it  did  not  exist  by  itself,  but  were  mixed 
with  anything  else,  it  would  contain  a  portion  of  all 
things.  .  .  .  For  in  everything  there  is  a  portion  of 
everything,  as  I  have  said  above.  And  in  that  case  the 
things  mixed  with  it  would  prevent  it  from  having 
power  over  anything  else  such  as  it  now  has,  being  alone 
and  by  itself.  For  it  is  the  thinnest  of  all  things  and 
the  purest,  and  it  possesses  all  knowledge  and  the  greatest 

t  Following  Schorn  rather  than  Diels  here,  and  adding  koX  t^ 
Xafxitp6v,  after  Hippolytus. 


52         SOURCE   BOOK   IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

power.  And  whatsoever  things  are  ahve,  the  largest  as 
well  as  the  smallest,  over  all  is  mind  the  ruler.  And 
over  the  whole  revolving  universe  mind  held  sway,  so 
that  it  caused  it  to  revolve  in  the  beginning.  The 
revolution  first  began  in  a  small  area ;  now  it  extends  over 
a  larger  space,  and  it  will  extend  still  farther.  And 
mind  knows  all  things,  whether  mixed  together,  or 
differentiated  and  separate.  Mind  also  regulated  all 
things, — what  they  were  to  be,  what  they  were  [but  are 
not  now],  and  what  they  are;  and  mind  regulated  the 
revolution  in  which  revolve  the  stars,  the  sun  and  the 
moon,  and  the  air  and  the  ether  that  are  differentiated 
[from  the  primal  mixture].  And  it  is  this  revolution 
that  caused  the  differentiation.  The  dense  is  differenti- 
ated from  the  rare,  the  warm  from  the  cold,  the  light  from 
the  dark,  the  dry  from  the  moist;  and  there  are  many 
portions  of  many  things.  Nothing,  however,  is  alto- 
gether differentiated  and  distinct  from  anything  else, 
excepting  only  mind.  And  all  mind,  whether  greater 
or  smaller,  is  alike.  Nothing  else,  however,  is  like  any- 
thing else.  But  whatever  portions  are  predominant  in 
each  individual  thing,  these  it  has  always  been  taken  to 
be,  because  they  were  the  most  conspicuous  things. 

13.  And  when  mind  began  to  set  things  in  motion 
there  was  a  differentiation  of  all  that  was  in  motion,  and 
whatever  mind  set  in  motion  was  all  separated;  and 
when  things  were  set  in  motion  and  separated  the  revolu- 
tion caused  them  to  be  much  more  separated. 

14.  And  mind,  which  is  eternal,  is  most  assuredly  now 
also  where  all  other  things  are, — in  the  surrounding  mass, 
in  the  things  that  have  been  differentiated,  and  in  the 
things  that  are  being  differentiated. 

15.  For  there  is  no  least  of  what  is  small:  there  is 


ANAXAGORAS  53 

always  a  still  smaller.  For  it  is  impossible  that  that 
which  is  should  cease  to  be  by  being  divided.  On  the 
other  hand  there  is  always  a  still  larger  than  the  large. 
And  [the  large]  is  equal  to  the  small  in  number  [of 
portions].  In  itself,  however,  each  thing  is  both  large 
and  small. 

7.  And  so  we  cannot  know  either  by  word  or  by  deed  f 
the  number  of  the  things  that  have  been  differentiated. 

21.  Because  of  the  weakness  of  our  senses  we  are 
unable  to  discern  the  truth. 

SECONDARY   SOURCES 

Anaxagoras  ^  of  Clazomense,  son  of  Hegesiboulus, 
asserted  that  the  homoiomeries  were  the  first  principles 
of  all  that  exists.  How  anything  could  arise  from  what 
is  not,  or  pass  away  into  nothingness,  seemed  to  him  to 
present  insuperable  difficulties.  The  fact  is  we  take 
nourishment  that  is  simple  and  uniform,  such  as  bread 
and  water,  and  from  it  hair,  veins,  arteries,  flesh,  nerves, 
bones,  and  other  parts  of  the  body  are  made  to  grow; 
and  since  these  things  come  into  being  we  must  admit 
that  in  the  food  taken  all  the  things  that  are  exist,  and 
that  it  is  from  the  things  that  are  that  all  things  derive 
their  increase.  Consequently  the  food  contains  the 
parts  that  are  generative  of  blood,  nerves,  bones,  and 
other  things, — parts  which  w^ere  visible  only  to  the  eye  of 

1  Aet.  I.  3,  5  (Diels  279). 
t  As  we  should  say,  by  reason  or  by  experience.  From  Aristotle's 
discussion  it  would  appear  that  the  ground  for  this  assertion  is  the 
fact  that  all  knowing  is  defining  and  setting  limits,  which  cannot  be 
done  in  the  case  of  what  is  strictly  limitless.  But  as  Anaxagoras 
held  that  mind  knows  all  things,  he  must,  Aristotle  thinks,  have  held 
that  they  were  limited  by  thought.  This  Aristotle  holds  to  be 
inconsistent.  But  it  need  not  have  appeared  such  from  the  stand- 
point of  Anaxagoras. 


54         SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

reason.  For  we  must  not  reduce  all  things  to  objects 
of  sense.  Sense  would  indicate  that  it  is  bread  and 
water  that  make  these  things, f  but  the  eye  of  reason 
can  detect  these  portions  already  in  the  bread  and  water. 
From  the  fact  that  the  portions  contained  in  the  food  are 
like  the  things  generated  by  it  he  called  them  homoiome- 
ries;  and  the  first  principles  of  existing  things,  so  far  as 
their  matter  is  concerned,  he  declared  to  be  these 
homoiomeries.  He  began  his  work  with  these  words: 
''AH  things  were  together;  and  mind  separated  them  and 
put  them  in  order."  * 

According  2  to  Anaxagoras  perception  is  by  opposites; 
for  like  is  not  affected  by  like.  He  attempts  to  give  the 
details  with  regard  to  each  sense  separately.  Seeing, 
for  example,  is  occasioned  by  the  image  on  the  pupil  of 
the  eye;  but  no  image  is  cast  on  what  is  of  the  same 
color,  but  only  on  what  is  of  a  different  color.  With 
most  animals  this  difference  of  color  occurs  in  the  day- 
time; with  some,  however,  it  occurs  at  night,  and  that 
is  why  they  are  keen-sighted  at  that  time.  Still,  as  a 
rule,  night  rather  than  day  is  of  the  same  color  with  the 
eyes.  And  it  is  in  the  daytime  that  the  image  is  cast, 
because  light  is  a  joint  cause  of  the  image;  and  the  pre- 
dominant color  casts  an  image  more  readily  on  its 
opposite. 

In  the  same  way  touch  and  taste  discriminate  their 
objects.  For  what  is  just  as  hot  or  just  as  cold  as  we 
are  neither  warms  us  nor  cools  us  by  its  presence;  nor 
do  we  know  sweet  and  sour  by  means  of  themselves. 
By  the  warm  we  know  the  cold,  by  the  brackish  water 

2  Theophr.  De  Sens.  27  (Dox.  507-8). 
t  That  is,  blood,  nerves,  etc. 


ANAXAGOK\S  55 

the  fresl ,  by  the  sour  the  sweet — according  to  our 
deficiency  in  each  case.  For  all  these  things  exist  in  us 
from  the  t  rst.  And  similarly  we  smell  at  the  same  time 
that  we  bieathe;  and  we  hear  by  means  of  the  sound 
penetrating  to  the  brain — for  the  surrounding  bone  on 
which  the  sound  impinges  is  hollow. 

Further,  all  sensation  is  accompanied  by  pain.  This 
would  seem  to  be  the  simple  consequence  of  his  pre- 
supposition; for  the  contact  of  unlike  with  unlike  is  in 
every  case  painful.  This  pain  is  conspicuous  in  the  case 
of  sensations  long  continued  or  very  intense;  for  brilliant 
colors  and  loud  noises  cause  pain,  and  one  cannot  stand 
the  same  sensations  very  long. 

The  larger  animals  are  the  more  sensitive;  and,  in 
general,  sensation  is  an  affair  of  size.  For  animals  that 
have  large,  clear,  and  bright  eyes  see  large  things  and  at 
a  great  distance,  and  the  opposite  is  the  case  with  small- 
eyed  animals.  The  same  holds  of  hearing.  Big  ears 
hear  loud  sounds  and  from  afar,  while  fainter  sounds 
pass  unnoticed :  small  ears  hear  sounds  that  are  faint 
and  near.  The  same  holds  of  smell  too.  .  .  .  Roughly 
speaking,  large  noses  do  not  perceive  a  thin  smell,  nor 
small  noses  a  thick  one. 

SOME  OF  Aristotle's  comments  on  anaxagoras 
Anaxagoras  ^  says  that  man  is  the  wisest  of  animals 
because  he  has  hands.  * 

Anaxagoras,^  older  in  years,  younger  in  works  (than 
Empedocles),  makes  the  first  principles  of  things  limit- 
less in  number.  Practically  all  things  made  up  of  like 
parts  arise  and  perish,  just  as  fire  and  water  do,  by 

3  Arist.  Part.  An.  I.  10,  687  a  7  (R.  P.  127  b). 
a  Arist.  Met.  I.  3,  984  all. 


56         SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHT 

combination  and  separation.     In  no  other  sensf  do  they 
arise  or  perish.     Rather,  they  last  forever. 

*** 
If  ^  you  follow  up  the  theory  of  Anaxap;oras,  and 
develop  what  he  meant  to  say,  you  will  very  likely  find 
him  speaking  more  like  our  modern  philosophers.  For 
when  as  yet  nothing  was  clearly  differentiated,  it  is 
obvious  that  one  could  say  nothing  true  about  that 
[undifferentiated]  substance.  I  mean,  for  example,  it 
was  neither  white  nor  black  nor  gray,  nor  of  any  other 
color,  but  was  necessarily  colorless.  Otherwise  it  would 
have  had  some  one  of  those  colors.  So,  too,  by  the  same 
line  of  argument,  it  had  no  taste;  nor  any  other  like 
quality.  In  fact,  it  could  not  have  any  quality  at  all, 
or  any  quantity,  nor  could  it  be  any  definite  thing.  For 
that  would  mean  that  it  would  have  some  definite  form, 
which  is  impossible,  since  all  things  were  mixed  to- 
gether. That  is  [if  it  had  any  definite  characteristic], 
differentiation  would  already  have  taken  place.  But  he 
says  explicitly,  all  things  were  mixed  together,  with  the 
exception  of  mind  which  alone  was  unmixed  and  pure. 
The  inference  from  all  this  is,  that  he  took  as  his  first 
principles.  Unity — for  Unity  is  simple  and  unmixed — 
and  the  Other,  which  we  [Platonists  ?]  call  the  indefinite 
before  it  has  been  defined,  and  before  it  participates 
in  the  ideas.  So,  while  what  he  says  is  neither  correct 
nor  clear,  still  he  means  something  very  much  like  that 
which  later  philosophers,  and  thinkers  now  more  in 
vogue,  affirm. 

« Arist.  Met.  I.  8,  989  b  4. 


VII 

THE  ATOMISTS 

LEUCIPPUS 
[Flourished  about  440  b.c] 

Nothing  ^  comes  into  being  without  a  reason,  but 
everything  arises  from  a  specific  ground  and  driven  by 
necessity.  i^ 

Leucippus,2  the  Eleate,  or  the  Milesian  (for  he  is 
described  in  both  ways),  at  first  agreed  with  the  philo- 
sophical views  of  Parmenides.  But  he  did  not  follow 
the  same  path  as  Parmenides  and  Xenophanes  in  his 
account  of  the  things  that  are,  but,  apparently,  just  the 
opposite.  For  whereas  they  made  the  All  one,  im- 
movable, uncreated  and  limited,  and  did  not  permit 
inquiry  into  that  which  is  not  (to  iit]  6V),  he  began  by 
assuming  an  unlimited  number  of  elements,  the  atoms, 
which  were  always  in  motion.  And  he  supposed  them 
to  have  an  infinite  variety  of  forms,  because  there  was 
no  reason  why  they  should  have  one  form  rather  than 
another,  and  because  he  observed  that  the  process  of 
birth  and  change  was  unceasing.  He  further  believed 
that  that  which  is  (to  6v)  does  not  more  truly  exist 
than  that  which  is  not  {ro  fjurj  6v) ,  and  that  both  alike 
are  causes  of  the  things  that  come  into  being.     For  he 

»Leucippus,  Fr.  2,  Diels. 
2Theophr.  Phys.  Op.  Fr.  8  (D.  359). 
57 


58  SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

assumed  that  the  substance  of  the  atoms  was  sohd  and 
full;  and  he  called  them  ''what  is/'  and  that  they  moved 
in  the  void,  and  he  called  that  'Vhat  is  not/'  and  he 
said  that  it  was  no  less  real  than  that  which  is.  And 
very  much  in  the  same  way  his  associate  Democritus 
of  Abdera  assumes  as  first  principles  the  plenum  and 
the  void.  * 

Leucippus  3  thought  he  had  a  theory  which  was  in 
accord  with  sense-perception,  and  which  did  not  annul 
coming  into  being,  or  passing  away,  or  motion,  or  the 
multiplicity  of  existent  things.  With  regard  to  these 
matters  he  spoke  the  language  of  experience;  but  he 
agreed  with  the  philosophers  who  set  up  the  One,  in 
holding  that  there  is  no  motion  apart  from  empty  space ; 
and  he  says  further  that  empty  space  is  non-being,  and 
that  no  part  of  being  can  be  non-being.  For,  strictly 
speaking,  that  which  is,  is  a  plenum.  But,  he  added, 
being  which  answers  to  this  description  is  not  one ;  rather 
there  is  an  infinite  number  of  such  beings,  and  they  are 
invisible  on  account  of  the  smallness  of  their  bulk.  They 
move  in  empty  space  (for  there  is  empty  space);  and, 
coming  together,  they  cause  coming-into-being;  being 
separated,  they  cause  passing-away. 

LEUCIPPUS    AND    DEMOCRITUS 

In  ^  the  main  Leucippus  and  Democritus  explain  all 
things  in  the  same  way  and  by  the  same  argument, 
taking  as  their  first  principle  what  in  the  order  of  na- 
ture comes  first.  Some  of  the  ancient  philosophers  had 
thought  that  that  which  is  {to  6v)  must  necessarily  be 
one  and  immovable,  for  [so  ran  their  argument]  it  could 

8  Arist.  De  Gen.  et  Corr.  325  a  23  (D.  358). 
aArist.  De  Gen.  et  Corr.  324  b  35  (D.  358). 


THE  ATOMISTS  59 

not  possibly  move  unless  there  were  empty  space  apart 
from  it,  whereas  empty  space  is  non-existent;  and  it 
could  not  be  a  many  unless  there  were  empty  space  to 
keep  the  many  asunder. 


DEMOCRITUS 
[Flourished  about  420  B.C.] 

THE    FRAGMENTS 

6.t  Man  should  know  from  this  rule  that  he  is  cut  off 
from  truth. 

7.  This  argument  too  shows  that  in  truth  we  know 
nothing  about  anything,  but  every  man  shares  the 
generally  prevailing  opinion. 

8.  And  yet  it  will  be  obvious  that  it  is  difficult  to 
really  know  of  what  sort  each  thing  is. 

10.  Now,  that  we  do  not  really  know  of  what  sort 
each  thing  is,  or  is  not,  has  often  been  shown. 

117.  Verily  we  know  nothing.     Truth  is  buried  deeo. 

9.  In  fact  we  do  not  know  anything  infallibly,  but 
only  that  which  changes  according  to  the  condition  of  our 
body  and  of  the  [influences]  that  reach  and  impinge 
upon  it. 

11.  There  are  two  forms  of  Imowledge,  one  genuine, 
one  obscure.  To  the  obscure  belong  all  of  the  following: 
sight,  hearing,  smell,  taste,  feeling.  The  other  form  is 
the  genuine,  and  is  quite  distinct  from  this.  (And  then 
distinguishing  the  genuine  from  the  obscure,  he  con- 
tinues:) Whenever  the  obscure  [way  of  knowing]  has 
reached  the  minimum  sensibile  of  hearing,  smell,  taste, 
and  touch,  and  when  the  investigation  must  be  carried 

fThe  numbering  of  the  fragments  is  that  of  Diels,  and  I  follow  his 
text. 


60         SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

farther  into  that  which  is  still  finer,  then  arises  the 
genuine  way  of  knowing,  which  has  a  finer  organ  of 
thought.  ^% 

0.  [Democritus]  ^  says:  By  convention  {v6fi(p)  sweet  is 
sweet,  by  convention  bitter  is  bitter,  by  convention  hot 
is  hot,  by  convention  cold  is  cold,  by  convention  color 
is  color.  But  in  reality  there  are  atoms  and  the  void. 
That  is,  the  objects  of  sense  are  supposed  to  be  real  and 
it  is  customary  to  regard  them  as  such,  but  in  truth 
they  are  not.     Only  the  atoms  and  the  void  are  real. 

2.  Of  practical  wisdom  these  are  the  three  fruits:  to 
deliberate  well,  to  speak  to  the  point,  to  do  what  is 
right. 

3.  He  who  intends  to  enjoy  life  should  not  be  busy 
about  many  things,  and  in  what  he  does  should  not  under- 
take what  exceeds  his  natural  capacity.  On  the  contrary, 
he  should  have  himself  so  in  hand  that  even  when  fortune 
comes  his  way,  and  is  apparently  ready  to  lead  him  on  to 
higher  things,  he  should  put  her  aside  and  not  o'erreach 
his  powers.  For  a  being  of  moderate  size  is  safer  than 
one  that  bulks  too  big. 

THE    GOLDEN   SAYINGS    OF   DEMOCRITUS 

35.  If  any  one  hearken  with  understanding  to  these 
sayings  of  mine  many  a  deed  worthy  of  a  good  man  shall 
he  perform  and  many  a  foolish  deed  be  spared. 

37.  If  one  choose  the  goods  of  the  soul,  he  chooses  the 
diviner  [portion];  if  the  goods  of  the  body,  the  merely 
mortal. 

38.  'Tis  well  to  restrain  the  wicked,  and  in  any  case 
not  to  join  him  in  his  wrong-doing. 

40.   'Tis  not  in  strength  of  body  nor  in  gold  that  men 

fiSext.  Emp.  Math.  VII.  135, 


THE  ATO  MISTS  61 

find  happiness,  but  in  uprightness  and  in  fulness  of  under- 
standing. 

41.  Not  from  fear  but  from  a  sense  of  duty  (Bih  to 
Seov)  refrain  from  your  sins. 

43.  Repentance  for  one's  evil  deeds  is  the  safeguard  of 
life. 

45.  He  who  does  wrong  is  more  unhappy  than  he 
who  suffers  wrong. 

49.  'Tis  a  grievous  thing  to  be  subject  to  an  inferior. 

53.  Many  who  have  not  learned  wisdom  live  wisely, 
and  many  who  do  the  basest  deeds  can  make  most 
learned  speeches. 

54.  Fools  learn  wisdom  through  misfortune. 

55.  One  should  emulate  works  and  deeds  of  virtue, 
not  arguments  about  it. 

57.  Strength  of  body  is  nobility  in  beasts  of  burden, 
strength  of  character  is  nobility  in  men. 

58.  The  hopes  of  the  right-minded  may  be  realized, 
those  of  fools  are  impossible. 

59.  Neither  art  nor  wisdom  may  be  attained  with- 
out learning. 

60.  It  is  better  to  correct  your  own  faults  than  those 
of  another. 

61.  Those  who  have  a  well-ordered  character  lead 
also  a  well-ordered  life. 

62.  Good  means  not  [merely]  not  to  do  wrong,  but 
rather  not  to  desire  to  do  wrong. 

64.  There  are  many  who  know  many  things,  yet  are 
lacking  in  wisdom. 

77.  Fame  and  wealth  without  wisdom  are  unsafe  pos- 
sessions. 

78.  Making  money  is  not  without  its  value,  but 
nothing  is  baser  than  to  make  it  by  wrong-doing. 


62  SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

68.  You  can  tell  the  man  who  rings  true  from  the 
man  who  rings  false,  not  by  his  deeds  alone,  but  also 
by  his  desires. 

82.  False  men  and  shams  talk  big  and  do  nothing. 

89.  My  enemy  is  not  the  man  who  wrongs  me,  but 
the  man  who  means  to  wrong  me. 

90.  The  enmity  of  one's  kindred  is  far  more  bitter 
than  the  enmity  of  strangers. 

98.  The  friendship  of  one  wise  man  is  better  than 
the  friendship  of  a  host  of  fools. 

99.  No  one  deserves  to  live  who  has  not  at  least  one 
good-man-and-true  for  a  friend. 

108.  Seek  after  the  good,  and  with  much  toil  shall  ye 
find  it;  the  evil  turns  up  of  itself  without  your  seek- 
ing it. 

111.  For  a  man  petticoat  government  is  the  limit 
of  insolence. 

118.  (Democritus  said  he  would  rather  discover  a 
single  demonstration  than  win  the  throne  of  Persia.) 

119.  Men  have  made  an  idol  of  luck  as  an  excuse 
for  their  own  thoughtlessness.  Luck  seldom  measures 
swords  with  wisdom.  Most  things  in  life  quick  wit 
and  sharp  vision  can  set  right. 

154a.  In  the  weightiest  matters  we  must  go  to  school 
to  the  animals,  and  learn  spinning  and  weaving  from  the 
spider,  building  from  the  swallow,  singing  from  the 
birds, — from  the  swan  and  the  nightingale,  imitating 
their  art. 

160.  An  evil  and  foolish  and  intemperate  and  irre- 
ligious life  should  not  be  called  a  bad  life,  but  rather^ 
dying  long  drawn  out. 

176.  Fortune  is  lavish  with  her  favors,  but  not  to 
be  depended   on.     Nature  on   the  other  hand   is  self- 


THE  ATOMISTS  63 

sufficing,  and  therefore  with  her  feebler  but  trust- 
worthy [resources]  she  wins  the  greater  [meed]  of 
hope. 

174.  The  right-minded  man,  ever  incUned  to  righteous 
and  lawful  deeds,  is  joyous  day  and  night,  and  strong, 
and  free  from  care.  But  if  a  man  take  no  heed  of  the 
right,  and  leave  undone  the  things  he  ought  to  do,  then 
will  the  recollection  of  no  one  of  all  his  transgressions 
bring  him  any  joy,  but  only  anxiety  and  self -reproaching. 

175.  Now  as  of  old  the  gods  give  men  all  good 
things,  excepting  only  those  that  are  baneful  and  in- 
jurious and  useless.  These,  now  as  of  old,  are  not  gifts 
of  the  gods :  men  stumble  into  them  themselves  because 
of  their  own  blindness  and  folly. 

178.  Of  all  things  the  worst  to  teach  the  young  is  dal- 
liance, for  it  is  this  that  is  the  parent  of  those  pleasures 
from  which  wickedness  springs. 

231.  A  sensible  man  takes  pleasure  in  what  he  has  in- 
stead of  pining  for  what  he  has  not. 

230.  A  hfe  without  a  holiday  is  like  a  long  journey 
without  an  inn  to  rest  at. 

232.  The  pleasures  that  give  most  joy  are  the  ones 
that  most  rarely  come. 

233.  Throw  moderation  to  the  winds,  and  the  greatest 
pleasures  bring  the  greatest  pains. 

234.  Men  in  their  prayers  beg  the  gods  for  health,  not 
knowing  that  this  is  a  thing  they  have  in  their  own 
power.  Through  their  incontinence  undermining  it, 
they  themselves  become,  because  of  their  passions,  the 
betrayers  of  their  own  health. 

191.  Men  achieve  tranquillity  through  moderation  in 
pleasure  and  through  the  symmetry  of  life.  Want  and 
superfluity  are  apt  to  upset  them  and  to  cause  great 


64         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

perturbations  in  the  soul.  The  souls  that  are  rent  by 
violent  conflicts  are  neither  stable  nor  tranquil.  One 
should  therefore  set  his  mind  upon  the  things  that  are 
within  his  power,  and  be  content  with  his  opportunities, 
nor  let  his  memory  dwell  very  long  on  the  envied  and 
admired  of  men,  nor  idly  sit  and  dream  of  them.  Rather, 
he  should  contemplate  the  lives  of  those  who  suffer 
hardship,  and  vividly  bring  to  mind  their  sufferings,  so 
that  your  own  present  situation  may  appear  to  you 
important  and  to  be  envied,  and  so  that  it  may  no  longer 
be  your  portion  to  suffer  torture  in  your  soul  by  your 
longing  for  more.  For  he  who  admires  those  who  have, 
and  whom  other  men  deem  blest  of  fortune,  and  who 
spends  all  his  time  idly  dreaming  of  them,  will  be  forced 
to  be  always  contriving  some  new  device  because  of  his 
[insatiable]  desire,  until  he  ends  by  doing  some  desperate 
deed  forbidden  by  the  laws.  And  therefore  one  ought 
not  to  desire  other  men's  blessings,  and  one  ought  not  to 
envy  those  who  have  more,  but  rather,  comparing  his 
life  with  that  of  those  who  fare  worse,  and  laying  to 
heart  their  sufferings,  deem  himself  blest  of  fortune  in 
that  he  lives  and  fares  so  much  better  than  they.  Hold- 
ing fast  to  this  saying  you  will  pass  your  life  in  greater 
tranquillity  and  will  avert  not  a  few  of  the  plagues  of 
life — envy  and  jealousy  and  bitterness  of  mind. 

235.  All  who  delight  in  the  pleasures  of  the  belly,  ex- 
ceeding all  measure  in  eating  and  drinking  and  love,  find 
that  the  pleasures  are  brief  and  last  but  a  short  while — 
only  so  long  as  they  are  eating  and  drinking — but  the 
pains  that  come  after  are  many  and  endure.  The  long- 
ing for  the  same  things  keeps  ever  returning,  and 
whenever  the  objects  of  one's  desire  are  reahzed  forth- 
with the  pleasure  vanishes,  and  one  has  no  further  use 


THE  ATOMISTS  66 

for  them.     The  pleasure  is  brief,  and  once  more  the 
need  for  the  same  things  returns. 

252.  We  ought  to  regard  the  interests  of  the  state  as  of 
far  greater  moment  than  all  else,  in  order  that  they  may 
be  administered  well;  and  we  ought  not  to  engage  in  eager 
rivalry  in  despite  of  equity,  nor  arrogate  to  ourselves 
any  power  contrary  to  the  common  welfare.  For  a 
state  well  administered  is  our  greatest  safeguard.  In 
this  all  is  summed  up:  When  the  state  is  in  a  healthy 
condition  all  things  prosper;  when  it  is  corrupt,  all  things 
go  to  ruin. 

THE   ATOMISTS    ON   THE   SOUL,    ACCORDING   TO    ARISTOTLE 

There  ^  are  some  who  maintain  that  fundamentally 
and  primarily  the  soul  is  the  principle  of  movement. 
They  reasoned  that  that  which  is  not  itself  in  motion 
cannot  move  anything  else,  and  thus  they  regarded  the 
soul  as  one  of  those  objects  which  were  in  motion. 
Democritus,  whose  view  agrees  with  that  of  Leucippus, 
consequently  maintained  soul  to  be  a  sort  of  fire  and 
heat.  For  as  the  forms  of  the  atoms  are  as  the  atoms 
themselves  unlimited,  he  declares  that  those  which  are 
spherical  in  shape  constitute  fire  and  soul,  these  atoms 
being  like  the  so-called  motes  which  are  seen  in  the  sun- 
beams that  enter  through  doorways,  and  it  is  in  such  a 
mixed  heap  of  seeds  that  he  finds  the  elements  of  the 
whole  natural  world.  The  reason  w^hy  they  maintain 
that  the  spherical  atoms  constitute  the  soul,  is  that 
atoms  of  such  configuration  are  best  able  to  penetrate 
through  everything,  and  to  set  the  other  things  in  motion 
at  the  same  time  as  they  are  moved  themselves,  the 

« Arist.  De  An.  I.  2,  403  b  30.  The  passages  from  Aristotle's 
Psychology  are  given  in  Wallace's  translation. 


66  SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

assumption  here  being  that  the  soul  is  that  which  supplies 
animals  with  motion.  This  same  assumption  led  them 
to  regard  respiration  as  the  boundary  with  which  life 
was  coterminous.  It  was,  they  held,  the  tendency  of 
the  encircling  atmosphere  to  cause  contraction  in  the 
animal  body  and  to  expel  those  atomic  forms,  which, 
from  never  being  at  rest  themselves,  supply  animals 
with  movement.  This  tendency,  however,  was  counter- 
acted by  the  reenforcement  derived  from  the  entrance 
from  outside  in  the  act  of  respiration  of  new  atoms  of 
a  similar  kind.  These  last  in  fact — such  was  their 
theory — as  they  united  to  repel  the  compressing  and 
solidifying  forces  prevented  those  atoms  already  existing 
in  animals  from  being  expelled  from  them:  and  life,  they 
thought,  continued  so  long  as  there  was  strength  to 
carry  on  this  process.  ^ 

[Democritus  held]  ^  that  the  soul  {'fvxn)  and  reason 
(1/01)9)  were  the  same  thing,  and  that  this  belonged  to 
the  class  of  primary  and  indivisible  bodies,  and  had  the 
capacity  of  motion  because  of  the  smallness  of  its  parts 
and  because  of  its  shape.  Now  the  most  mobile  shape 
is  the  spherical,  and  such  is  the  shape  of  reason  and  of 
fire. 

»  Arist.  De  An.  405  a  8. 


VIII 
THE  SOPHISTS 

[440-400  B.C.]  t 

TWO    SAYINGS     OF    PROTAGORAS 

Man  1  is  a  measure  of  all  things,  of  things  that  are, 
that  they  are;  and  of  things  that  are  not,  that  they  are 
not.  * 

With  2  regard  to  the  gods  I  know  not  whether  they 
exist  or  not,  or  what  they  are  like.  Many  things  prevent 
our  knowing;  the  subject  is  obscure  and  brief  is  the  span 
of  our  mortal  life. 

A   SAYING   OF  GORGIAS 

In  3  his  work  ^'On  Nature,  or  the  Non-Existent,''  he 
(Gorgias)  arranges  his  discussion  under  three  heads: 
First,  nothing  exists;  second,  if  anything  did  exist  we 
could  never  know  it;  third,  if  perchance  a  man  should 
come  to  know  it,  it  would  remain  a  secret,  he  would  be 
unable  to  describe  it  to  his  fellow-men. 

iSext.  Emp.  Pyrrh.  h.  I.  216;  cf.  also  Plato,  Cratyl.  385  E.; 
Theat.  151  E. 

2Eus.  P.  E.  XIV.  3,  7;   cf.  Plato,  Thecst. 
»Sext.  Emp.  Adv.  Math.  VII.  67. 

t  Protagoras  of  Abdera  flourished  440  B.C.;  Gorgias  of  Leontium 
about  the  same  time,  or  possibly  a  few  years  later;  Prodicus  of 
Ceos  about  430. 

67 


68         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

AN    ACCOUNT    OF    THE    CALLING    AND    PROFESSIONS    OF    THE    SOPHIST 

FROM  THE  WRITINGS   OF  PLATO,    IN  A   DISCUSSION   CARRIED 

ON   BY  THE  'ELEATIC   STRANGER*    AND   THE^TETUS 

Eleatic  Stranger. — First  ^  let  us  wait  a  moment  and 
recover  breath;  and  while  we  are  resting  we  can  reckon 
in  how  many  forms  he  [the  Sophist]  has  appeared.  In 
the  first  place,  he  was  discovered  to  be  a  paid  hunter 
after  wealth  and  youth.  ...  In  the  second  place,  he 
was  a  merchant  in  the  goods  of  the  soul.  ...  In  the 
third  place,  he  has  turned  out  to  be  a  retailer  of  the  same 
sort  of  wares. 

ThecBtetus. — Yes;  and  in  the  fourth  place,  he  himself 
manufactured  the  learned  wares  which  he  sold. 

E.  S. — Quite  right;  I  will  try  and  remember  the  fifth 
myself.  He  belonged  to  the  fighting  class,  and  was 
further  distinguished  as  a  debater  who  professed  the 
eristic  art.  .  .  .  This  point  was  doubtful;  yet  we  at 
least  agreed  that  he  was  a  purger  of  souls,  who  cleaned 
away  notions  obstructive  to  knowledge.  .  .  .  Again, 
in  private  conversation  when  any  universal  assertion  is 
made  about  generation  and  essence,  we  know  that  such 
persons  are  tremendous  argufiers,  and  are  able  to  impart 
their  own  skill  to  others.  ...  In  a  v/ord,  is  not  the 
art  of  disputation  the  power  of  disputing  about  all 
things  ? 

Thecct. — Certainly;  there  does  not  seem  to  be  much 
that  is  left  out. 

E.  S. — But  oh!  my  dear  youth,  do  you  suppose  this 
possible?  For  perhaps  your  young  eyes  may  see  things 
which  to  our  duller  sight  do  not  appear. 

Thecet. — To  what  are  you  alluding?  I  don't  think  I 
understand  your  present  question. 

*  From  Plato's  Sophist,  Jowett's  translation,  beginning  p.  231  D. 


THE   SOPHISTS  69 

E.  S. — I  asked  whether  anybody  can  understand  all 
things. 

ARISTOTLE    ON   THE    SOPHISTS 

Sophistic  ^  is  nothing  but  apparent  wisdom  in  no  wise 
real,  and  the  Sophist  is  only  eager  to  get  rich  off  his 
apparent  wisdom  which  is  not  the  true.  Evidently  these 
fellows  seek  rather  to  appear  wise  than  to  be  wise  with- 
out so  appearing.  * 

Of  ^  men  some  possess  genuine  health,  others  have  the 

appearance  only  and  are  puffed  up  and  deck  themselves 

like  victims  for  the  altar.     The  former  are  fair  in  virtue 

of  their  own  beauty;  the  latter  look  fair — when  they  have 

made  their  toilet.  * 

*  * 

The  ^  Sophist  is  a  speculator  in  sham  wisdom. 

THE   SOPHISTS   AND   THE   ATHENIAN   YOUTH 

[The  following  graphic  passage  from  Plato's  Protag- 
oras is  given  to  show  the  acclaim  with  which  the  Sophists 
were  received  by  the  Athenian  youth;  and  also  to  give 
Protagoras  (through  Plato)  an  opportunity  to  describe 
his  own  profession.] 

Last  night, ^  or  rather  very  early  this  morning,  Hippoc- 
rates, the  son  of  Apollodorus  and  the  brother  of  Phason, 
gave  a  tremendous  thump  with  his  staff  at  my  door; 
some  one  opened  to  him,  and  he  came  rushing  in  and 
bawled  out:  ''Socrates,  are  you  awake  or  asleep?'' 

I  knew  his  voice  and  said:  ''Hippocrates,  is  that  you? 
and  do  you  bring  any  news?" 

*Anst.,  Soph,  el,  J.  1,  165. 
«Arist.,  Sop/i.  eZ.,  I.  1,  164. 
» Arist.  Met.  III.  2,  1004. 

'From  Plato's  Protagoras,  Jowett's  translation,  beginning  at 
p.  310  A. 


70         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

''Good  news/'  he  said;  ''nothing  but  good." 

"Dehghtful,"  I  said;  "but  what  is  the  news?  and  why 
have  you  come  hither  at  this  unearthly  hour?" 

He  drew  nearer  to  me  and  said:  "Protagoras  is  come." 

"Yes,"  I  rephed;  "he  came  two  days  ago:  have  you 
only  just  heard  of  his  arrival?" 

"Yes,  by  the  gods,"  he  said;  "but  not  until  yesterday 
evening." 

At  the  same  time  he  felt  for  the  truckle-bed,  and  sat 
down  at  my  feet,  and  then  he  said:  "Yesterday  quite 
late  in  the  evening,  on  my  return  from  Oenoe  whither  I 
had  gone  in  pursuit  of  my  runaway  slave  Satyrus,  as  I 
meant  to  have  told  you,  if  some  other  matter  had  not 
come  in  the  way; — on  my  return,  when  we  had  done 
supper  and  were  about  to  retire  to  rest,  my  brother  said 
to  me:  'Protagoras  is  come.'  I  was  going  to  you  at  once, 
and  then  I  thought  that  the  night  was  far  spent.  But 
the  moment  sleep  left  me  after  my  fatigue,  I  got  up  and 
came  hither  direct." 

I,  who  knew  the  very  courageous  madness  of  the  man, 
said : '  'What  is  the  matter  ?  Has  Protagoras  robbed  you 
of  anything?" 

He  rephed,  laughing:  "Yes,,  indeed  he  has,  Socrates, 
of  the  wisdom  which  he  keeps  from  me." 

"But,  surely,"  I  said,  "if  you  give  him  money,  and 
make  friends  with  him,  he  will  make  you  as  wise  as  he  is 
himself." 

"Would  to  heaven,"  he  replied,  "that  this  were  the 
case!  He  might  take  all  that  I  have,  and  all  that  my 
friends  have,  if  he  pleased.  But  that  is  why  I  have  come 
to  you  now,  in  order  that  you  may  speak  to  him  on  my 
behalf;  for  I  am  young,  and  also  I  have  never  seen  nor 
heard  him  (when  he  visited  Athens  before  I  was  but  a 


THE  SOPHISTS  71 

child);  and  all  men  praise  him,  Socrates;  he  is  reputed 
to  be  the  most  accomphshed  of  speakers.  There  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  go  to  him  at  once,  and  then  we 
shall  find  him  at  home.  He  lodges,  as  I  hear,  with 
Callias  the  son  of  Hipponicus:  let  us  start." 

I  replied:  ''Not  yet,  my  good  friend;  the  hour  is 
too  early.  But  let  us  rise  and  take  a  turn  in  the 
court  and  wait  about  there  until  daybreak;  when  the 
day  breaks,  then  we  will  go.  For  Protagoras  is  gener- 
ally at  home,  and  we  shall  be  sure  to  find  him;  never 
fear." 

Upon  this  we  got  up  and  walked  about  in  the  court, 
and  I  thought  that  I  would  make  trial  of  the  strength 
of  his  resolution.  So  I  examined  him  and  put  questions 
to  him.  'Tell  me,  Hippocrates,"  I  said,  "as  you  are  going 
to  Protagoras,  and  will  be  paying  your  money  to  him, 
what  is  he  to  whom  you  are  going?  and  what  will  he 
make  of  you?  ..." 

"They  call  him  a  Sophist,  Socrates,"  he  replied. 

"Then  we  are  going  to  pay  our  money  to  him  in  the 
character  of  a  Sophist?" 

"Certainly." 

"But  suppose  a  person  were  to  ask  this  further 
question:  'And  how  about  yourself?  What  will  Protag- 
oras make  of  you,  if  you  go  to  see  him?'  " 

He  answered,  with  a  blush  upon  his  face  (for  the 
day  was  just  beginning  to  dawn,  so  that  I  could 
see  him):  "Unless  this  differs  in  some  way  from  the 
former  instances,  I  suppose  that  he  will  make  a  Sophist 
of  me." 

"By  the  gods,"  I  said,  "and  are  you  not  ashamed  at 
having  to  appear  before  the  Hellenes  in  the  character  of 
a  Sophist?" 


72         SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

"Indeed,  Socrates,  to  confess  the  truth,  I  am.  ..." 

I  said:  "1  wonder  whether  you  know  what  you  are 
doing?" 

''And  what  am  I  doing?" 

"You  are  going  to  commit  your  soul  to  the  care  of  a 
man  whom  you  call  a  Sophist.  And  yet  I  hardly  think 
that  you  know  what  a  Sophist  is;  and  if  not,  then  you 
do  not  even  know  to  whom  you  are  committing  your  soul 
and  whether  the  thing  to  which  you  commit  yourself  be 
good  or  evil.  .  .  . 

"If  you  were  going  to  commit  your  body  to  some  one, 
who  might  do  good  or  harm  to  it,  would  you  not  carefully 
consider  and  ask  the  opinion  of  your  friends  and  kindred, 
and  deliberate  many  days  as  to  whether  you  should  give 
him  the  care  of  your  body?  But  when  the  soul  is  in 
question,  which  you  hold  to  be  of  far  more  value  than 
the  body,  and  upon  the  good  or  evil  of  which  depends 
the  well-being  of  your  all, — about  this  you  never  con- 
sulted either  with  your  father  or  with  your  brother  or 
with  any  one  of  us  who  are  your  companions.  But  no 
sooner  does  this  foreigner  appear,  than  you  instantly 
commit  your  soul  to  his  keeping.  In  the  evening,  as  you 
say,  you  hear  of  him,  and  in  the  morning  you  go  to  him, 
never  deliberating  or  taking  the  opinion  of  any  one  as  to 
whether  you  ought  to  intrust  yourself  to  him  or  not; — 
you  have  quite  made  up  your  mind  that  you  will  at  all 
hazards  be  a  pupil  of  Protagoras,  and  are  prepared  to 
expend  all  the  property  of  yourself  and  of  your  friends 
in  carrying  out  at  any  price  this  determination,  although, 
as  you  admit,  you  do  not  know  him,  and  have  never 
spoken  with  him:  and  you  call  him  a  Sophist,  but  are 
manifestly  ignorant  of  what  a  Sophist  is;  and  yet  you 
are  going  to  commit  yourself  to  his  keeping." 


THE  SOPHISTS  73 

When  he  heard  me  say  this,  he  repUed:  ''No  other 
inference,  Socrates,  can  be  drawn  from  your  words." 

I  proceeded:  'Is  not  a  Sophist,  Hippocrates,  one  who 
deals  wholesale  and  retail  in  the  food  of  the  soul?  To 
me  that  appears  to  be  his  nature." 

"And  what,  Socrates,  is  the  food  of  the  soul?" 

"Surely,"  I  said,  "knowledge  is  the  food  of  the  soul; 
and  we  must  take  care,  my  friend,  that  the  Sophist  does 
not  deceive  us  when  he  praises  what  he  sells,  like  the 
dealers  wholesale  or  retail,  who  sell  the  food  of  the  body; 
for  they  praise  indiscriminately  all  their  goods,  without 
knowing  what  are  really  beneficial  or  hurtful :  neither  do 
their  customers  know,  with  the  exception  of  any  trainer 
or  physician  who  may  happen  to  buy  of  them.  In  hke 
manner  those  who  carry  about  the  wares  of  knowledge, 
and  make  the  round  of  the  cities,  and  sell  or  retail  them 
to  any  customer  who  is  in  want  of  them,  praise  them  all 
alike;  though  I  should  not  wonder,  0  my  friend,  if  many 
of  them  were  really  ignorant  of  their  effect  upon  the  soul; 
and  their  customers  equally  ignorant,  unless  he  who 
buys  of  them  happens  to  be  a  physician  of  the  soul.  If, 
therefore,  you  have  understanding  of  what  is  good  and 
evil,  you  may  safely  buy  knowledge  of  Protagoras  or  of 
any  one;  but  if  not,  then,  0  my  friend,  pause,  and  do  not 
hazard  your  dearest  interests  at  a  game  of  chance.  For 
there  is  far  greater  peril  in  buying  knowledge  than  in 
buying  meat  and  drink:  the  one  you  purchase  of  the 
wholesale  or  retail  dealer,  and  carry  them  away  in  other 
vessels,  and  before  you  receive  them  into  the  body  as 
food,  you  may  deposit  them  at  home  and  call  in  any 
experienced  friend  who  knows  what  is  good  to  be  eaten 
or  drunken,  and  what  not,  and  how  much,  and  when; 
and  then  the  danger  of  purchasing  them  is  not  so  great. 


74         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

But  you  cannot  buy  the  wares  of  knowledge  and  carry 
them  away  in  another  vessel;  when  you  have  paid  for 
them  you  receive  them  into  the  soul  and  go  your  way, 
either  greatly  harmed  or  greatly  benefited;  and  therefore 
we  should  deliberate  and  take  counsel  with  our  elders; 
for  we  are  still  young — too  young  to  determine  such  a 
matter.  And  now  let  us  go,  as  we  were  intending,  and 
hear  Protagoras ;  and  when  we  have  heard  what  he  has  to 
say,  we  may  take  counsel  of  others;  for  not  only  is 
Protagoras  at  the  house  of  Callias,  but  there  is  Hippias 
of  EHs,  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Prodicus  of  Ceos,  and 
several  other  wise  men." 

To  this  we  agreed,  and  proceeded  on  our  way  until  we 
reached  the  vestibule  of  the  house;  and  there  we  stopped 
in  order  to  conclude  a  discussion  which  had  arisen  be- 
tween us  as  we  were  going  along;  and  we  stood  talking  in 
the  vestibule  until  we  had  finished  and  come  to  an  under- 
standing. And  I  think  that  the  door-keeper,  who  was 
a  eunuch,  and  who  was  probably  annoyed  at  the  great 
inroad  of  the  Sophists,  must  have  heard  us  talking.  At 
any  rate,  when  we  knocked  at  the  door,  and  he  opened 
and  saw  us,  he  grumbled:  'They  are  Sophists — he  is  not 
at  home";  and  instantly  gave  the  door  a  hearty  bang 
with  both  his  hands.  Again  we  knocked,  and  he  an- 
swered without  opening:  ''Did  you  not  hear  me  say  that 
he  is  not  at  home,  fellows?" 

"But,  my  friend,"  I  said,  "you  need  not  be  alarmed; 
for  we  are  not  Sophists,  and  we  are  not  come  to  see 
Callias,  but  we  want  to  see  Protagoras;  and  I  must  re- 
quest you  to  announce  us."  At  last,  after  a  good  deal 
of  difficulty,  the  man  was  persuaded  to  open  the  door. 

When  we  entered,  we  found  Protagoras  taking  a  walk 
in  the  cloister;  and  next  to  him,  on  one  side,  were  walking 


THE  SOPHISTS  75 

Callias,  the  son  of  Hipponicus,  and  Paralus,  the  son  of 
Pericles,  who,  by  the  mother's  side,  is  his  half-brother, 
and  Charmides,  the  son  of  Glaucon.  On  the  other  side 
of  him  were  Xanthippus,  the  other  son  of  Pericles, 
Philippides,  the  son  of  Philomelas;  also  Antimoerus  of 
Mende,  who  of  all  the  disciples  of  Protagoras  is  the  most 
famous,  and  intends  to  make  sophistry  his  profession. 
A  train  of  listeners  followed  him;  the  greater  part  of 
them  appeared  to  be  foreigners,  whom  Protagoras  had 
brought  with  him  out  of  the  various  cities  visited  by 
him  in  his  journeys,  he,  like  Orpheus,  attracting  them 
by  his  voice,  and  they  following.  I  should  mention 
also  that  there  were  some  Athenians  in  the  company. 
Nothing  delighted  me  more  than  the  precision  of  their 
movements:  they  never  got  into  his  way  at  all;  but  when 
he  and  those  who  were  with  him  turned  back,  then  the 
band  of  listeners  parted  regularly  on  either  side;  he  was 
always  in  front,  and  they  wheeled  round  and  took  their 
places  behind  him  in  perfect  order. 

After  him,  as  Homer  says,  'I  hfted  up  my  eyes  and 
saw'  Hippias  the  Elean  sitting  in  the  opposite  cloister 
on  a  chair  of  state,  and  around  him  were  seated  on 
benches  Eryximachus,  the  son  of  Acumenus,  and  Phsedrus 
the  Myrrhinusian,  and  Andron  the  son  of  Androtion,  and 
there  were  strangers  whom  he  had  brought  with  him  from 
his  native  city  of  Elis,  and  some  others :  they  were  putting 
to  Hippias  certain  physical  and  astronomical  questions, 
and  he,  ex  cathedra,  was  determining  their  several  ques- 
tions to  them,  and  discoursing  of  them. 

Also,  'my  eyes  beheld  Tantalus';  for  Prodicus  the 
Cean  was  at  Athens :  he  had  been  lodged  in  a  room  which, 
in  the  days  of  Hipponicus,  was  a  storehouse ;  but,  as  the 
house  was  full,  Callias  had  cleared  this  out  and  made 


76         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

the  room  into  a  guest-chamber.  Now  Prodicus  was 
still  in  bed,  wrapped  up  in  sheepskins  and  bedclothes, 
of  which  there  seemed  to  be  a  great  heap.  ...  I  was 
very  anxious  to  hear  what  Prodicus  was  saying,  for  he 
seems  to  me  to  be  an  all-wise  and  inspired  man;  but  I 
was  not  able  to  get  into  the  inner  circle,  and  his  fine  deep 
voice  made  an  echo  in  the  room  which  rendered  his 
words  inaudible.  .  .  . 

On  entering  we  stopped  a  little,  in  order  to  look  about 
us,  and  then  walked  up  to  Protagoras,  and  I  said: 
"Protagoras,  my  friend  Hippocrates  and  I  have  come 
to  see  you." 

"Do  you  wish,"  he  said,  "to  speak  with  me  alone,  or 
in  the  presence  of  the  company?" 

"Whichever  you  please,"  I  said;  "you  shall  determine 
when  you  have  heard  the  purpose  of  our  visit.  ..." 

As  I  suspected  that  he  would  Hke  to  have  a  little 
display  and  glorification  in  the  presence  of  Prodicus  and 
Hippias,  and  would  gladly  show  us  to  them  in  the  light 
of  his  admirers,  I  said:  "But  why  should  we  not  simimon 
Prodicus  and  Hippias  and  their  friends  to  hear  us?" 

"Very  good,"  he  said. 

"Suppose,"  said  Callias,  "that  we  hold  a  council  in 
which  you  may  sit  and  discuss."  This  was  agreed  upon, 
and  great  delight  was  felt  at  the  prospect  of  hearing  wise 
men  talk ;  we  ourselves  took  the  chairs  and  benches,  and 
arranged  them  by  Hippias,  where  the  other  benches  had 
been  already  placed.  Meanwhile  Callias  and  Alcibiades 
got  Prodicus  out  of  bed  and  brought  in  him  and  his 
companions. 

When  we  were  all  seated,  Protagoras  said:  "Now  that 
the  company  are  assembled,  Socrates,  tell  me  about  the 
young  man  of  whom  you  were  just  now  speaking." 


THE  SOPHISTS  77 

I  replied:  ".  .  .  This  is  my  friend  Hippocrates,  who 
is  desirous  of  making  your  acquaintance;  he  would  like 
to  know  what  will  happen  to  him  if  he  associates  with 
you.     I  have  no  more  to  say." 

Protagoras  answered:  ''Young  man,  if  you  associate 
with  me,  on  the  very  first  day  you  will  return  home  a 
better  man  than  you  came,  and  better  on  the  second  day 
than  on  the  first,  and  better  every  day  than  you  were 
on  the  day  before." 

When  I  heard  this,  I  said:  ''.  .  .  When  you  say  that 
on  the  first  day  on  which  he  associates  with  you  he  will 
return  home  a  better  man,  and  on  every  day  will  grow 
in  like  manner, — in  what,  Protagoras,  will  he  be  better? 
and  about  what?" 

When  Protagoras  heard  me  say  this,  he  repHed:  ''You 
ask  questions  fairly,  and  I  like  to  answer  a  question  which 
is  fairly  put.  If  Hippocrates  comes  to  me  he  will  not 
experience  the  sort  of  drudgery  with  which  other 
Sophists  are  in  the  habit  of  insulting  their  pupils;  who, 
when  they  have  just  escaped  from  the  arts,  are  taken  and 
driven  back  into  them  by  these  teachers,  and  made  to 
learn  calculation,  and  astronomy  and  geometry,  and 
music"  (he  gave  a  look  at  Hippias  as  he  said  this) ;  "but 
if  he  comes  to  me,  he  will  learn  that  which  he  comes  to 
learn.  And  this  is  prudence  in  affairs  private  as  well 
as  public ;  he  will  learn  to  order  his  own  house  in  the  best 
manner,  and  he  will  be  able  to  speak  and  act  for  the  best 
in  the  affairs  of  the  state." 

"Do  I  understand  you,"  I  said;  "and  is  your  meaning 
that  you  teach  the  art  of  politics,  and  that  you  promise 
to  make  men  good  citizens?" 

"That,  Socrates,  is  exactly  the  profession  which  I 
make." 


78         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

"Then/'  I  said,  ''you  do  indeed  possess  a  noble  art, 
if  there  is  no  mistake  about  this;  for  I  will  freely  confess 
to  you,  Protagoras,  that  I  have  a  doubt  whether  this 
art  is  capable  of  being  taught,  and  yet  I  know  not  how 
to  disbeUeve  your  assertion.  ..." 

THE   PROTAGOREAN    DOCTRINE   OF  RELATIVITY  AS  PLATO   INTERPRETS 
IT  IN   THE    THE^TETUS 

[The  question  that  has  been  raised  is :  What  is  knowl- 
edge? Thesetetus  has  hazarded  the  opinion  that 
"Knowledge  is  sense-perception,"  whereupon  Socrates 
proceeds  as  follows :] 

Socrates. — Well,^  you  have  delivered  yourself  of  a 
very  important  doctrine  about  knowledge;  it  is  indeed 
the  opinion  of  Protagoras,  who  has  another  way  of 
expressing  it.  Man,  he  says,  is  the  measure  of  all 
things,  of  the  existence  of  things  that  are,  and  of  the 
non-existence  of  things  that  are  not: — You  have  read 
him? 

Thecetetus. — Oh,  yes,  again  and  again. 

Soc. — Does  he  not  say  that  things  are  to  you  such  as 
they  appear  to  you,  and  to  me  such  as  they  appear  to 
me,  and  that  you  and  I  are  men? 

ThecBt. — Yes,  he  says  so. 

Soc. — A  wise  man  is  not  likely  to  talk  nonsense.  Let 
us  try  to  understand  him :  the  same  wind  is  blowing,  and 
yet  one  of  us  may  be  cold  and  the  other  not,  or  one  may 
be  slightly  and  the  other  very  cold? 

Thecet. — Quite  true. 

Soc. — Now  is  the  wind,  regarded  not  in  relation  to  us, 
but  absolutely,  cold  or  not;  or  are  we  to  say,  with 

•From  Plato's  Thecetetus,  beginning  on  p.  151  E.,  Jowett's  trans- 
lation. 


THE  SOPHISTS  79 

Protagoras,  that  the  wind  is  cold  to  him  who  is  cold,  and 
not  to  him  who  is  not? 

Thecet. — I  suppose  the  last. 

Soc. — Then  it  must  appear  so  to  each  of  them? 

Thecet.— Yes. 

Soc. — And  ^appears  to  him'  means  the  same  as  'he 
perceives.' 

Theoot.— True. 

Soc. — Then,  appearing  and  perceiving  coincide  in  the 
case  of  hot  and  cold,  and  in  similar  instances;  for  things 
appear,  or  may  be  supposed  to  be,  to  each  one  such  as  he 
perceives  them? 

ThecEt.—Yes. 

Soc. — Then  perception  is  always  of  existence,  and  being 
the  same  as  knowledge  is  unerring? 

Thecet— CleSiTly. 

Soc. — In  the  name  of  the  Graces,  what  an  almighty 
wise  man  Protagoras  must  have  been!  He  spoke  these 
things  in  a  parable  to  the  common  herd,  like  you  and 
me,  but  told  the  truth,  '  his  Truth,'  in  secret  to  his  own 
disciples. 

Thecet. — What  do  you  mean,  Socrates? 

Soc. — I  am  about  to  speak  of  a  high  argument,  in 
which  all  things  are  said  to  be  relative;  you  cannot 
rightly  call  anything  by  any  name,  such  as  great  or 
small,  heavy  or  light,  for  the  great  will  be  small  and 
the  heavy  light — there  is  no  single  thing  or  quality,  but 
out  of  motion  and  change  and  admixture  all  things  are 
becoming  relatively  to  one  another,  which  'becoming' 
is  by  us  incorrectly  called  being,  but  is  really  becoming, 
for  nothing  ever  is,  but  all  things  are  becoming.  Sum- 
mon all  philosophers — Protagoras,  Heracleitus,  Em- 
pedocles,  and  the  rest  of  them,  one  after  another,  and 


80         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

with  the  exception  of  Parmenides  they  will  agree  with 
you  in  this.  Summon  the  great  masters  of  either  kind 
of  poetry — Epicharmus,  the  prince  of  Comedy,  and 
Homer  of  Tragedy;  when  the  latter  sings  of 

[  Ocean  whence  sprang  the  gods,  and  mother  Tethys/ 

does  he  not  mean  that  all  things  are  the  offspring  of 
flux  and  motion?  Then  now  apply  his  doctrine  to 
perception,  my  good  friend,  and  first  of  all  to  vision; 
that  which  you  call  white  color  is  not  in  your  eyes,  and 
is  not  a  distinct  thing  which  exists  out  of  them.  And 
you  must  not  assign  any  place  to  it :  for  if  it  had  position 
it  would  be,  and  be  at  rest,  and  there  would  be  no  process 
of  becoming. 

ThecBt. — Then  what  is  color? 

Soc. — Let  us  carry  out  the  principle  which  has  just 
been  affirmed,  that  nothing  is  self-existent,  and  then 
we  shall  see  that  white,  black,  and  every  other  color, 
arises  out  of  the  eye  meeting  the  appropriate  motion, 
and  that  what  we  call  a  color  is  in  each  case  neither  the 
active  nor  the  passive  element,  but  something  which 
passes  between  them,  and  is  peculiar  to  each  percipient; 
are  you  quite  certain  that  the  several  colors  appear  to  a 
dog  or  to  any  animal  whatever  as  they  appear  to  you? 

TheoBt. — Far  from  it. 

Soc. — Or  that  anything  appears  the  same  to  you  as  to 
another  man?  Are  you  so  profoundly  convinced  of 
this?  Rather  would  it  not  be  true  that  it  never  appears 
exactly  the  same  to  you,  because  you  are  never  exactly 
the  same? 

Thecet.—The  latter. 

Soc. — And  if  that  with  which  I  compare  myself  in 
size,  or  which  I  apprehend  by  touch,  were  great  or 


THE   SOPHISTS  81 

white  or  hot,  it  could  not  become  different  by  mere 
contact  with  another  unless  it  actually  changed;  nor 
again,  if  the  comparing  or  apprehending  subject  were 
great  or  white  or  hot,  could  this,  when  unchanged  from 
within,  become  changed  by  any  approximation  or  affec- 
tion of  any  other  thing.  The  fact  is  that  in  our  ordinary 
way  of  speaking  we  allow  ourselves  to  be  driven  into 
most  ridiculous  and  wonderful  contradictions,  as  Protag- 
oras and  all  who  take  his  line  of  argument  would  remark. 
...  I  am  charmed  with  his  doctrine,  that  what  appears 
is  to  each  one,  but  I  wonder  that  he  did  not  begin  his 
book  on  Truth  with  a  declaration  that  a  pig  or  a  dog- 
faced  baboon,  or  some  other  yet  stranger  monster  which 
has  sensation,  is  the  measure  of  all  things;  then  he  might 
have  shown  a  magnificent  contempt  for  our  opinion  of 
him  by  informing  us  at  the  outset  that  while  we  were 
reverencing  him  like  a  God  for  his  wisdom  he  was  no 
better  than  a  tadpole,  not  to  speak  of  his  fellow-men — 
would  not  this  have  produced  an  overpowering  effect? 
For  if  truth  is  only  sensation,  and  no  man  can  discern 
another's  feeHngs  better  than  he,  or  has  any  superior 
right  to  determine  whether  his  opinion  is  true  or  false, 
but  each,  as  we  have  several  times  repeated,  is  to  himself 
the  sole  judge,  and  everything  that  he  judges  is  true  and 
right,  why,  my  friend,  should  Protagoras  be  preferred 
to  the  place  of  wisdom  and  instruction,  and  deserve  to 
be  well  paid,  and  we  poor  ignoramuses  have  to  go  to 
him,  if  each  one  is  the  measure  of  his  own  wisdom? 
Must  he  not  be  talking  'ad  captandum'  in  all  this?  I 
say  nothing  of  the  ridiculous  predicament  in  which  my 
own  midwifery  and  the  whole  art  of  dialectic  is  placed; 
for  the  attempt  to  supervise  or  refute  the  notions  or 
opinions  of  others  would  be  a  tedious  and  enormous  piece 


clSLllt 


82         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

of  folly,  if  to  each  man  his  own  are  right;  and  this  must 
be  the  case  if  Protagoras's  Truth  is  the  real  truth,  and 
the  philosopher  is  not  merely  amusing  himself  by  giving 
oracles  out  of  the  shrine  of  his  book.  .  .  . 

Well,  you  ask,  and  how  will  Protagoras  reenforce  his 
position  ?     Shall  I  answer  for  him  ? 

Thecct. — By  all  means. 

Soc. — .  .  .  Oh,  my  good  sir,  he  will  say,  Come  to 
the  argument  in  a  more  generous  spirit;  and  either  show, 
if  you  can,  that  our  sensations  are  not  relative  and 
individual,  or,  if  you  admit  them  to  be  so,  prove  that 
this  does  not  involve  the  consequence  that  the  ap- 
pearance becomes,  or,  if  you  will  have  the  word,  is,  to 
the  individual  only.  As  to  your  talk  about  pigs  and 
baboons,  you  are  yourself  behaving  like  a  pig,  and  you 
teach  your  hearers  to  make  sport  of  my  writings  in  the 
same  ignorant  manner;  but  this  is  not  to  your  credit. 
For  I  declare  that  the  truth  is  as  I  have  written,  and 
that  each  of  us  is  a  measure  of  existence  and  of  non- 
existence. Yet  one  man  may  be  a  thousand  times 
better  than  another  in  proportion  as  different  things  are 
and  appear  to  him.  And  I  am  far  from  saying  that 
wisdom  and  the  wise  man  have  no  existence;  but  I  say 
that  the  wise  man  is  he  who  makes  the  evils  which  appear 
and  are  to  a  man,  into  goods  which  are  and  appear  to 
him.  And  I  would  beg  you  not  to  press  my  words  in 
the  letter,  but  to  take  the  meaning  of  them  as  I  will 
explain  them.  Remember  what  has  been  already  said — 
that  to  the  sick  man  his  food  appears  to  be  and  is  bitter, 
and  to  the  man  in  health  the  opposite  of  bitter.  Now 
I  cannot  conceive  that  one  of  these  men  can  be  or  ought 
to  be  made  wiser  than  the  other;  nor  can  you  assert 
that  the  sick  man  because  he  has  one  impression  is 


r 


THE  SOPHISTS  83 

foolish,  and  the  healthy  man  because  he  has  another  is 
wise;  but  the  one  state  requires  to  be  changed  into  the 
other,  the  worse  into  the  better.  As  in  education,  a 
change  of  state  has  to  be  effected,  and  the  Sophist  ac- 
complishes by  words  the  change  which  the  physician 
works  by  the  aid  of  drugs.  Not  that  any  one  ever  made 
another  think  truly,  who  previously  thought  falsely. 
For  no  one  can  think  what  is  not,  or  think  anything 
different  from  that  which  he  feels;  and  this  is  always 
true.  But  as  the  inferior  habit  of  mind  has  thoughts  of 
a  kindred  nature,  so  I  conceive  that  a  good  mind  causes 
men  to  have  good  thoughts;  and  these  which  the  in- 
experienced call  true,  I  maintain  to  be  only  better,  and 
not  truer  than  others.  And,  0  my  dear  Socrates,  I  do 
not  call  wise  men  tadpoles:  far  from  it;  I  say  that  they 
are  the  physicians  of  the  human  body,  and  the  husband- 
men of  plants — for  the  husbandmen  also  take  away  the 
evil  and  disordered  sensations  of  plants,  and  infuse  into 
them  good  and  healthy  sensations — aye,  and  true  ones; 
and  the  wise  and  good  rhetoricians  make  the  good 
instead  of  the  evil  to  seem  just  to  states;  for  whatever 
appears  to  a  state  to  be  just  and  fair,  so  long  as  it  is 
regarded  as  such,  is  just  and  fair  to  it;  but  the  teacher 
of  wisdom  causes  the  good  to  take  the  place  of  the  evil, 
both  in  appearance  and  in  reality.  And  in  like  manner 
the  Sophist  who  is  able  to  train  his  pupils  in  this  spirit 
is  a  wise  man,  and  deserves  to  be  well  paid  by  them. 
And  so  one  man  is  wiser  than  another;  and  no  one  thinks 
falsely,  and  you,  whether  you  will  or  not,  must  endure 
to  be  a  measure.  On  these  foundations  the  argimient 
stands  firm,  which  you,  Socrates,  may,  if  you  please, 
overthrow  by  an  opposite  argument,  or  if  you  like  you 
may  put  questions  to  me — a  method  to  which  no  in- 


84         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

telligent  person  will  object,  quite  the  reverse.  But  I 
must  beg  you  to  put  fair  questions:  for  there  is  great 
inconsistency  in  saying  that  you  have  a  zeal  for  virtue, 
and  then  always  behaving  unfairly  in  argument.  The 
unfairness  of  which  I  complain  is  that  you  do  not  dis- 
tinguish between  mere  disputation  and  dialectic:  the 
disputer  may  trip  up  his  opponent  as  often  as  he  likes, 
and  make  fun;  but  the  dialectician  will  be  in  earnest, 
and  only  correct  his  adversary  when  necessary,  telling 
him  the  errors  into  which  he  has  fallen  through  his  own 
fault,  or  that  of  the  company  which  he  has  previously 
kept.  If  you  do  so,  your  adversary  will  lay  the  blame 
of  his  own  confusion  and  perplexity  on  himself,  and  not 
on  you.  He  will  follow  and  love  you,  and  will  hate  him- 
self, and  escape  from  himself  into  philosophy,  in  order 
that  he  may  become  different  from  what  he  was.  But 
the  other  mode  of  arguing,  which  is  practised  by  the 
many,  will  have  just  the  opposite  effect  upon  him;  and 
as  he  grows  older,  instead  of  turning  philosopher,  he  will 
come  to  hate  philosophy.  I  would  recommend  you, 
therefore,  as  I  said  before,  not  to  encourage  yourself  in 
this  polemical  and  controversial  temper,  but  to  find 
out,  in  a  friendly  and  congenial  spirit,  what  we  really 
mean  when  we  say  that  all  things  are  in  motion,  and  that 
to  every  individual  and  state  what  appears,  is.  In 
this  manner  you  will  consider  whether  knowledge  and 
sensation  are  the  same  or  different,  but  you  will  not 
argue,  as  you  were  just  now  doing,  from  the  customary 
use  of  names  and  words,  which  the  vulgar  pervert  in  all 
sorts  of  ways,  causing  infinite  perplexity  to  one  another. 
Such,  Theodorus,  is  the  very  slight  help  which  I  am  able 
to  offer  to  your  old  friend;  had  he  been  living,  he  would 
have  helped  himself  in  a  far  more  gloriose  style. 


THE  SOPHISTS  85 

Plato's  account  of  gorgias  as  a  rhetorician 

0  Meno/^  there  was  a  time  when  the  Thessalians  were 
famous  among  the  other  Hellenes  only  for  their  riches 
and  their  riding;  but  now,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  they  are 
equally  famous  for  their  wisdom,  especially  at  Larissa, 
which  is  the  native  city  of  your  friend  Aristippus.  And 
this  is  Gorgias's  doing;  for  when  he  came  there,  the 
flower  of  the  Aleuadse,  among  them  your  admirer  Aris- 
tippus, and  the  other  chiefs  of  the  Thessalians,  fell  in  love 
with  his  wisdom.  And  he  has  taught  you  the  habit  of 
answering  questions  in  a  grand  and  bold  style,  which  be- 
comes those  who  know,  and  is  the  style  in  which  he  him- 
self answers  all  comers;  and  any  Hellene  who  likes  may 
ask  him  anything.  ^*^ 

Cheer ephon. — Tell  ^^  me,  Gorgias,  is  our  friend  Callicles 
right  in  saying  that  you  undertake  to  answer  any 
questions  which  you  are  asked? 

Gorgias. — Quite  right,  Chserephon:  I  was  saying  as 
much  only  just  now;  and  I  may  add,  that  many  years 
have  elapsed  since  any  one  has  asked  me  a  new  one.  .  .  . 

Socrates. — Gorgias,  .  .  .  what  are  we  to  call  you, 
and  what  is  the  art  which  you  profess? 

Gor. — Rhetoric,  Socrates,  is  my  art. 

Soc. — Then  I  am  to  call  you  a  rhetorician? 

Gor. — Yes,  Socrates,  and  a  good  one  too,  if  you  would 
call  me  that  which,  in  Homeric  language,  'T  boast 
myself  to  be."  .  .  . 

Soc— {And]  rhetoric,  as  would  appear,  is  the  artificer 
of  a  persuasion  which  creates  belief  about  the  just  and 
unjust,  but  gives  no  instruction  about  them? 

Gor. — True. 
"From  the  Meno  of  Plato,  p.  70  D.,  Jowett's  translation. 
"  From  the  Gorgias  of  Plato,  p.  447  E.,  Jowett's  translation. 


IX 

SOCRATES 

[469-399  B.C.] 

ARISTOTLE   ON   SOCRATES's   ACHIEVEMENT 

There  ^  are  two  things  that  one  would  rightly  at- 
tribute to  Socrates:  inductive  reasoning  and  universal 
definition.  And  in  fact  these  two  things  are  the  very- 
foundations  of  knowledge.  But  Socrates  did  not  give 
his  universals,  or  his  definitions,  separate  existence. 
Others,  however,  did,  and  called  such  reals  'ideas.' 

XENOPHON's  tribute   to   SOCRATES  t 

It  2  seems  wonderful  to  me,  that  any  should  have  been 
persuaded  that  Socrates  corrupted  the  youth;  Socrates, 
who,  in  addition  to  wha.t  has  been  said  of  him,  was  not 
only  the  most  rigid  of  all  men  in  the  government  of  his 
passions  and  appetites,  but  also  most  able  to  withstand 
cold,  heat,  and  every  kind  of  labor;  and,  besides,  so 
inured  to  frugality,  that,  though  he  possessed  very  little, 
he  very  easily  made  it  a  sufficiency.  How,  then,  being 
of  such  a  character  himself,  could  he  have  rendered 
others  impious,  or  lawless,  or  luxurious,  or  incontinent, 
or  too  effeminate  to  endure  labor?  On  the  contrary,  he 
restrained  many  of  them  from  such  vices,  leading  them 

1  Arist.  Met.  12,  4,  1078  b. 

'  Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  I.  2,  1. 

t  The  passages  from  Xenophon's  Memorabilia  are  given  in  Wat- 
son's translation 

86 


SOCRATES  87 

to  love  virtue,  and  giving  them  hopes,  that  if  they 
would  take  care  of  themselves,  they  would  become 
honorable  and  worthy  characters.  Not  indeed  that  he 
ever  professed  to  be  an  instructor  in  that  way,  but,  by 
showing  that  he  was  himself  such  a  character,  he  made 
those  in  his  society  hope  that,  by  imitating  him,  they 
would  become  such  as  he  was. 

Of  the  body  he  was  not  neglectful,  nor  did  he  com- 
mend those  who  were.  He  did  not  approve  that  a 
person  should  eat  to  excess,  and  then  use  immoderate 
exercise,  but  recommended  that  he  should  work  off,  by 
a  proper  degree  of  exercise,  as  much  as  the  appetite 
received  with  pleasure;  for  such  a  habit,  he  said,  was 
peculiarly  conducive  to  health,  and  did  not  prevent 
attention  to  the  mind.  He  was  not,  however,  fine  or 
ostentatious  in  his  clothes  or  sandals,  or  in  any  of  his 
habits  of  life;  yet  he  did  not  make  those  about  him  lovers 
of  money,  for  he  checked  them  in  this  as  well  as  other 
passions,  and  asked  no  remuneration  from  those  who 
desired  his  company.  By  refraining  from  such  demand, 
he  thought  that  he  consulted  his  liberty,  and  called  those 
who  took  money  for  their  discourses  their  own  enslavers, 
since  they  must  of  necessity  hold  discussions  with  those 
from  whom  they  received  pay.  .  .  . 

How  then  could  a  man  of  such  a  character  corrupt 
the  young,  unless,  indeed,  the  study  of  virtue  be  cor- 
ruption? # 

[Socrates]  ^  disciplined  his  mind  and  body  by  sucn  a 
course  of  life,  that  he  who  should  adopt  a  similar  one, 
would,  if  no  supernatural  influence  prevented,  live  in 
good  spirits  and  uninterrupted  health,  nor  would  he  ever 

•  Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  I.  3,  5. 


88         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

be  in  want  of  the  necessary  expenses  for  it.  So  frugal 
was  he  that  I  do  not  know  whether  any  one  could  earn 
so  little  by  the  labor  of  his  hands,  as  not  to  procure 
sufficient  to  have  satisfied  Socrates.  He  took  only  so 
much  food  as  he  could  eat  with  a  keen  relish;  and,  to 
this  end,  he  came  to  his  meals  so  disposed  that  the 
appetite  for  his  meat  was  the  sauce  to  it.  Every  kind 
of  drink  was  agreeable  to  him,  because  he  never  drank 
unless  he  was  thirsty.  If  he  ever  complied  with  an 
invitation  to  go  to  a  feast,  he  very  easily  guarded,  what 
is  extremely  difficult  to  most  men,  against  loading  his 
stomach  to  excess.  Those  who  were  unable  to  do  so,  he 
advised  to  be  cautious  of  taking  anything  that  would 
stimulate  them  to  eat  when  they  were  not  hungry,  and 
to  drink  when  they  were  not  thirsty;  for  he  said  that 
those  were  the  things  that  disordered  the  stomach,  the 
head,  and  the  mind;  and  he  used  to  say,  in  jest,  that  he 
thought  Circe  transformed  men  into  swine,  by  enter- 
taining them  with  abundance  of  such  luxuries,  but  that 
Ulysses,  through  the  admonition  of  Mercury  and  through 
being  himself  temperate,  and  forbearing  to  partake  of 
such  delicacies  to  excess,  was  in  consequence  not  changed 
into  a  swine.  * 

Concerning  ^  justice,  too,  he  did  not  conceal  what 
sentiments  he  entertained,  but  made  them  manifest 
even  by  his  actions,  for  he  conducted  himself,  in  his 
private  capacity,  justly  and  beneficently  towards  all 
men,  and,  as  a  citizen,  he  obeyed  the  magistrates  in  all 
that  the  laws  enjoined,  both  in  the  city  and  on  military 
expeditions,  so  that  he  was  distinguished  above  other 
men  for  his  observance  of  order.    When  he  was  president 

» Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  IV.  4,  1. 


SOCRATES  89 

in  the  public  assembly,  he  would  not  permit  the  people 
to  give  a  vote  contrary  to  law,  but  opposed  himself,  in 
the  defence  of  the  laws,  to  such  a  storm  of  rage  on  the 
part  of  the  populace  as  I  think  that  no  other  man  could 
have  withstood.  When  the  Thirty  Tyrants  commanded 
him  to  do  anything  contrary  to  the  laws,  he  refused  to 
obey  them;  for  both  when  they  forbade  him  to  converse 
with  the  young,  and  when  they  ordered  him,  and  some 
others  of  the  citizens,  to  lead  a  certain  person  away  to 
death,  he  alone  did  not  obey,  because  the  order  was 
given  contrary  to  the  laws.  When  he  was  accused  by 
Meletus,  and  others  were  accustomed,  before  the  tribunal, 
to  speak  so  as  to  gain  the  favor  of  the  judges,  and  to 
flatter  them,  and  to  suppHcate  them,  in  violation  of 
the  laws,  and  many  persons,  by  such  practices,  had 
often  been  acquitted  by  the  judges,  he  refused,  on  his 
trial,  to  comply  with  any  practices  opposed  to  the  laws, 
and  though  he  might  easily  have  been  acquitted  by  his 
judges,  if  he  had  but  in  a  slight  degree  adopted  any  of 
these  customs,  he  chose  rather  to  die  abiding  by  the 
laws  than  to  save  his  life  by  transgressing  them. 

To  me,  therefore,  Socrates,  being  a  man  of  such  a 
character,  appeared  to  be  worthy  of  honor  rather  than 
of  death;  and  any  one,  considering  his  case  according  to 
the  laws,  would  find  such  to  be  the  fact ;  for,  by  the  laws, 
death  is  the  punishment  for  a  man  if  he  be  found  steaHng, 
or  stripping  people  of  their  clothes,  or  cutting  purses, 
or  house-breaking,  or  kidnapping,  or  sacrilege,  of  which 
crimes  Socrates  was  the  most  innocent  of  all  men.  Nor 
was  he  ever  the  cause  of  any  war  ending  unfortunately 
for  the  state,  or  of  any  sedition  or  treachery ;  nor  did  he 
ever,  in  his  private  transactions,  either  deprive  any 
man  of  what  was  for  his  good,  or  involve  him  in  an} 


90         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

evil;  nor  did  he  ever  lie  under  suspicion  of  any  of  the 

crimes  which  I  have  mentioned. 

* 
*  * 

How  ^  then  could  he  have  been  guilty  of  the  charges 
brought  against  him?  a  man  who,  instead  of  not  ac- 
knowledging the  gods,  as  was  stated  in  the  indictment, 
evidently  paid  respect  to  the  gods  more  than  other 
men;  and  instead  of  corrupting  the  youth,  as  the  accuser 
laid  to  his  charge,  plainly  led  such  of  his  associates  as  had 
vicious  inclinations  to  cease  from  indulging  them,  and 
exhorted  them  to  cherish  a  love  of  that  most  honorable 
and  excellent  virtue,  by  which  men  successfully  govern 
states  and  families.  How  then,  pursuing  such  a  course 
of  conduct,  was  he  not  deserving  of  great  honor  from 
the  city? 

THE   SORT   OF   QUESTIONS   SOCRATES   WAS    CONCERNED   WITH 

He  ^  did  not  dispute  about  the  nature  of  things  as 
most  other  philosophers  disputed,  speculating  how  that 
which  is  called  by  the  Sophists  the  world  was  produced, 
and  by  what  necessary  laws  everything  in  the  heavens  is 
effected,  but  endeavored  to  show  that  those  who  chose 
such  objects  of  contemplation  were  foolish;  and  used  in 
the  first  place  to  inquire  of  them  whether  they  thought 
that  they  already  knew  sufficient  of  human  affairs,  and 
therefore  proceeded  to  such  subjects  of  meditation,  or 
whether,  when  they  neglected  human  affairs  entirely, 
and  speculated  on  celestial  matters,  they  thought  that 
they  were  doing  what  became  them.  He  wondered, 
too,  that  it  was  not  apparent  to  them  that  it  is  impossible 
for  man  to  satisfy  himself  on  such  points,  since  even  those 
who  pride  themselves  most  on  discussing  them,  do  not 

» Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  I.  2,  6^.  « lb.,  I.  1,  IC. 


SOCRATES  91 

hold  the  same  opinions  one  with  another,  but  are,  com- 
pared with  each  other,  Hke  madmen.  .  .  . 

*  * 
He  '^  would  ask,  also,  concerning  such  philosophers, 

whether,  as  those  who  have  learned  arts  practised  by 
men  expect  that  they  will  be  able  to  carry  into  effect 
what  they  have  learned,  either  for  themselves,  or  for 
any  one  else  whom  they  may  wish,  so  those  who  inquire 
into  celestial  things  imagine  that,  when  they  have 
discovered  by  what  laws  everything  is  effected,  they 
will  be  able  to  produce,  whenever  they  please,  wind, 
rain,  changes  of  the  seasons,  and  whatever  else  of  that 
sort  they  may  desire,  or  whether  they  have  no  such 
expectation,  but  are  content  merely  to  know  how  every- 
thing of  that  nature  is  generated.  Such  were  the  ob- 
servations which  he  made  about  those  who  busied 
themselves  in  such  speculations;  but  for  himself,  he 
would  hold  discourse,  from  time  to  time,  on  what  con- 
cerned mankind,  considering  what  was  pious,  what 
impious;  what  was  becoming,  what  unbecoming;  what 
was  just,  what  unjust;  what  was  sanity,  what  insanity; 
what  was  fortitude,  what  cowardice;  what  a  state  was, 
and  what  the  character  of  a  statesman;  what  was  the 
nature  of  government  over  men,  and  the  qualities  of  one 
skilled  in  governing  them;  and  touching  on  other  sub- 
jects, with  which  he  thought  that  those  who  were  ac- 
quainted were  men  of  worth  and  estimation,  but  that 
those  who  were  ignorant  of  them  might  justly  be  deemed 
no  better  than  slaves. 

SOCRATES    ON   THE    GOOD    AND    THE    BEAUTIFUL 

When  ^  Aristippus  attempted  to  confute  Socrates,  as 
he  himself  had  previously  been  confuted  by  him,  Socrates, 

7  Xenophon's  Memorabilia    I.  1,  15.  » lb.,  III.  8,  1 


92         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

wishing  to  benefit  those  who  were  with  him,  gave  his 
answers,  not  Hke  those  who  are  on  their  guard  lest  their 
words  be  perverted,  but  like  those  who  are  persuaded 
that  they  ought  above  all  things  to  do  what  is  right. 
What  Aristippus  had  asked  him  was,  ^  whether  he  knew 
anything  good,'  in  order  that  if  he  should  say  any  such 
thing  as  food,  or  drink,  or  money,  or  health,  or  strength, 
or  courage,  he  might  prove  that  it  was  sometimes  an 
evil.  But  Socrates,  reflecting  that  if  anything  troubles 
us  we  want  something  to  reUeve  us  from  it,  replied,  as  it 
seemed  best  to  do,  ''Do  you  ask  me  whether  I  know 
anything  good  for  a  fever?"  ''I  do  not."  "Anything 
good  for  soreness  of  the  eyes?"  ''No."  "For  hunger?" 
"No,  nor  for  hunger  either."  "Well,  then,"  concluded 
Socrates,  "if  you  ask  me  whether  I  know  anything  good 
that  is  good  for  nothing,  I  neither  know  anything,  nor 
wish  to  know." 

Aristippus  again  asking  him  if  he  knew  anything 
beautiful,  he  replied,  "Many  things."  "Are  they  then," 
inquired  Aristippus,  "all  like  each  other?"  "Some  of 
them,"  answered  Socrates,  "are  as  unlike  one  another 
as  it  is  possible  for  them  to  be."  "How  then,"  said  he, 
"can  what  is  beautiful  be  unlike  what  is  beautiful?" 
"Because,  assuredly,"  replied  Socrates,  "one  man,  who 
is  beautifully  formed  for  wrestling,  is  unlike  another 
who  is  beautifully  formed  for  running ;  and  a  shield,  which 
is  beautifully  formed  for  defence,  is  as  unlike  as  possible 
to  a  dart,  which  is  beautifully  formed  for  being  forcibly 
and  swiftly  hurled . "  '  'You  answer  me, ' '  said  Aristippus, 
"in  the  same  manner  as  when  I  asked  you  whether  you 
knew  anything  good."  "And  do  you  imagine,"  said 
Socrates,  "that  the  good  is  one  thing,  and  the  beautiful 
another?    Do  you  not  know  that  with  reference  to  the 


SOCRATES  93 

same  objects  all  things  are  both  beautiful  and  good? 
Virtue,  for  instance,  is  not  good  with  regard  to  some 
things  and  beautiful  with  regard  to  others;  and  persons, 
in  the  same  way,  are  called  beautiful  and  good  with 
reference  to  the  same  objects;  and  human  bodies,  too, 
with  reference  to  the  same  objects,  appear  beautiful  and 
good;  and  in  like  manner  all  othei  things,  whatever  men 
use,  are  considered  beautiful  and  good  with  reference  to 
the  objects  for  which  they  are  serviceable." 

*     * 

When  9  some  one  asked  him  what  object  of  study  he 
thought  best  for  a  man,  he  replied,  ''Good  conduct." 
When  he  asked  him  again  whether  he  thought  ''good 
fortune"  an  object  of  study,  he  answered,  "  'Fortune' 
and  'Conduct'  I  think  entirely  opposed;  for,  for  a  person 
to  light  on  anything  that  he  wants  without  seeking  it, 
I  consider  to  be  'good  fortune,'  but  to  achieve  anything 
successfully  by  learning  and  study,  I  regard  as  'good 
conduct';  and  those  who  make  this  their  object  of  study 
appear  to  me  to  do  well." 

The  best  men,  and  those  most  beloved  by  the  gods, 
he  observed,  were  those  who,  in  agriculture,  performed 
their  agricultural  duties  well,  those  who,  in  medicine, 
performed  their  medical  duties  well,  and  those  who,  in 
political  offices,  performed  their  public  duties  well; 
but  he  who  did  nothing  well,  he  said,  was  neither  useful 
for  any  purpose,  nor  acceptable  to  the  gods. 

*** 

"But  1®  as  to  wisdom,  Socrates,  it  is  indisputably  a  good 
thing;  for  what  business  will  not  one  who  is  wise  conduct 
better  than  one  who  is  untaught?"  "Have  you  not 
heard,  then,  of  Daedalus,"  said  Socrates,  "how  he  was 

»Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  III.  9,  14.  i"  lb.,  IV.  2,  33. 


94         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

made  prisoner  by  Minos  and  compelled  to  serve  him  as 
a  slave;  how  he  was  cut  off,  at  once,  from  his  country 
and  from  liberty,  and  how,  when  he  endeavored  to  escape 
with  his  son,  he  lost  the  child,  and  was  unable  to  save 
himself,  but  was  carried  away  among  barbarians,  and 
made  a  second  time  a  slave?"  ''Such  a  story  is  told, 
indeed,"  said  Euthydemus.  ''Have  you  not  heard,  too, 
of  the  sufferings  of  Palamedes?  for  everybody  says  that 
it  was  for  his  wisdom  he  was  envied  and  put  to  death 
by  Ulysses."  'That,  too,  is  said,"  replied  Euthydemus. 
''And  how  many  other  men  do  you  think  have  been 
carried  off  to  the  king  on  account  of  their  wisdom,  and 
made  slaves  there?" 

"But  as  to  happiness,  Socrates,"  said  Euthydemus, 
"that  at  least  appears  to  be  an  indisputable  good." 
"Yes,  Euthydemus,"  replied  Socrates,  "if  we  make  it 
consist  in  things  that  are  indisputably  good."  "But 
what,"  said  he,  "among  things  constituting  happiness 
can  be  a  doubtful  good?"  "Nothing,"  answered  Soc- 
rates, "unless  we  join  with  it  beauty,  or  strength,  or 
wealth,  or  glory,  or  any  other  such  thing."  "But  we 
must  assuredly  join  them  with  it,"  said  Euthydemus; 
"for  how  can  a  person  be  happy  without  them?"  "We 
shall  then  join  with  it,  by  Jupiter,"  said  Socrates, 
"things  from  which  many  grievous  calamities  happen  to 
mankind;  for  many,  on  account  of  their  beauty,  are 
ruined  by  those  who  are  maddened  with  passion  for 
their  youthful  attractions;  many,  through  confidence  in 
their  strength,  have  entered  upon  undertakings  too 
great  for  it,  and  involved  themselves  in  no  small  disasters ; 
many,  in  consequence  of  their  wealth,  have  become 
enervated,  been  plotted  against,  and  destroyed;  and 
many,  from  the  glory  and  power  that  they  have  acquired 


I 


SOCRATES  95 

in  their  country,  have  suffered  the  greatest  calamities.'^ 
''Well,  then,"  said  Euthydemus,  ''if  I  do  not  say  what 
is  right  when  I  praise  happiness,  I  confess  that  I  do  not 
know  what  we  ought  to  pray  for  to  the  gods." 

*** 
You,  11  Antipho,  seem  to  think  that  happiness  consists 

in  luxury  and  extravagance;  but  I  think  that  to  want 
nothing  is  to  resemble  the  gods,  and  that  to  want  as  little 
as  possible  is  to  make  the  nearest  approach  to  the  gods; 
that  the  Divine  nature  is  perfection,  and  that  to  be  near- 
est to  the  Divine  nature  is  to  be  nearest  to  perfection. 

SOCRATES'S    METHOD 

And  12  he  observed  that  the  expression  ScaXeyeaOai, 

"to  reason,"  had  its  origin  in  people's  practice  of  meeting 

together  to  reason  on  matters,  and  distinguishing  them, 

BcaXiyovre';,  according  to  their  several  kinds.      It  was 

the  duty  of  every  one,  therefore,  he  thought,  to  make 

himself  ready  in  this  art,  and  to  study  it  with  the  greatest 

diligence;  for  that  men,  by  the  aid  of  it,  became  most 

accomplished,  most  able  to  guide  others,  and  most  acute 

in  discussion.  •  * 

*  * 

Whenever  i^  any  person  contradicted  him  on  any  point 
who  had  nothing  definite  to  say,  and  who  perhaps  as- 
serted, without  proof,  that  some  person,  whom  he 
mentioned,  was  wiser,  or  better  skilled  in  political  affairs, 
or  possessed  of  greater  courage,  or  worthier  in  some  such 
respect  [than  some  other  whom  Socrates  had  mentioned], 
he  would  recall  the  whole  argument,  in  some  such  way 
as  the  following,  to  the  primary  proposition:  "Do  you 
say  that  he  whom  you  commend,  is  a  better  citizen  than 

"Xenophon's  Memorabilia,  I.  6,  10. 
"  lb.,  IV.  5,  12. 
"lb.,  IV.  7,  13. 


96         SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

he  whom  I  commend?"  ''I  do  say  so."  'Why  should 
we  not  then  consider,  in  the  first  place,  what  is  the  duty 
of  a  good  citizen?^'  ''Let  us  do  so."  "Would  not  he 
then  be  superior  in  the  management  of  the  public  money 
who  should  make  the  state  richer?"  "Undoubtedly." 
"And  he  in  war  who  should  make  it  victorious  over  its 
enemies?"  "Assuredly."  "And  in  an  embassy  he  who 
should  make  friends  of  foes?"  "Doubtless."  "And 
he  in  addressing  the  people  who  should  check  dissension 
and  inspire  them  with  unanimity?"  "I  think  so." 
When  the  discussion  was  thus  brought  back  to  funda- 
mental principles,  the  truth  was  made  evident  to  those 
who  had  opposed  him. 

When  he  himself  went  through  any  subject  in  argu- 
ment, he  proceeded  upon  propositions  of  which  the 
truth  was  generally  acknowledged,  thinking  that  a  sure 
foundation  was  thus  formed  for  his  reasoning.  Ac- 
cordingly, whenever  he  spoke,  he,  of  all  men  that  I  have 
known,  most  readily  prevailed  on  his  hearers  to  assent 
to  his  arguments;  and  he  used  to  say  that  Homer  had 
attributed  to  Ulysses  the  character  of  a  sure  orator,  as 
being  able  to  form  his  reasoning  on  points  acknowledged 
by  all  mankind. 

A    BIT    OF    SOCRATES'S    BIOGRAPHY    REPORTED    BY    PLATO 

[From  Plato's  Phoedo.  Socrates  himself  speaks :] 
When  14  I  was  young,  Cebes,  I  had  a  prodigious 
desire  to  know  that  department  of  philosophy  which  is 
called  the  investigation  of  nature;  to  know  the  causes 
of  things,  and  why  a  thing  is  and  is  created  or  destroyed 
appeared  to  me  to  be  a  lofty  profession ;  and  I  was  always 
agitating  myself  with  the  consideration  of  questions  such 
"  Plato,  Phcedo,  beginning  p.  96  A,  Jowett's  translation. 


SOCRATES  97 

as  these: — Is  the  growth  of  animals  the  result  of  some 
decay  which  the  hot  and  cold  principle  contracts,  as 
some  have  said?  Is  the  blood  the  element  with  which 
we  think,  or  the  air,  or  the  fire?  or  perhaps  nothing  of  the 
kind — but  the  brain  may  be  the  originating  power  of  the 
perceptions  of  hearing  and  sight  and  smell,  and  memory 
and  opinion  may  come  from  them,  and  science  may  be 
based  on  memory  and  opinion  when  they  have  attained 
fixity.  And  then  I  went  on  to  examine  the  corruption 
of  them,  and  then  to  the  things  of  heaven  and  earth, 
and  at  last  I  concluded  myself  to  be  utterly  and  ab- 
solutely incapable  of  these  inquiries,  as  I  will  satis- 
factorily prove  to  you.  For  I  was  fascinated  by  them 
to  such  a  degree  that  my  eyes  grew  blind  to  things  which 
I  had  seemed  to  myself,  and  also  to  others,  to  know  quite 
well;  I  forgot  what  I  had  before  thought  self-evident 
truths;  e.  g.,  such  a  fact  as  that  the  growth  of  man  is  the 
result  of  eating  and  drinking;  for  when  by  the  digestion 
of  food  flesh  is  added  to  flesh  and  bone  to  bone,  and 
whenever  there  is  an  aggregation  of  congenial  elements, 
the  lesser  bulk  becomes  larger  and  the  small  man  great. 
...  I  am  not  any  longer  satisfied  that  I  understand 
the  reason  why  one  or  anything  else  is  either  generated 
or  destroyed  or  is  at  all,  but  I  have  in  my  mind  some 
confused  notion  of  a  new  method,  and  can  never  admit 
the  other. 

Then  I  heard  some  one  reading,  as  he  said,  from  a  book 
of  Anaxagoras,  that  mind  was  the  disposer  and  cause  of 
all,  and  I  was  delighted  at  this  notion,  which  appeared 
quite  admirable,  and  I  said  to  myself:  If  mind  is  the 
disposer,  mind  wlil  dispose  all  for  the  best,  and  put  each 
particular  in  the  best  place ;  and  I  argued  that  if  any  one 
desired  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  generation  or  de- 


98         SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

struction  or  existence  of  anything,  he  must  find  what 
state  of  being  or  doing  or  suffering  was  best  for  that 
thing,  and  therefore  a  man  had  only  to  consider  the  best 
for  himself  and  others  and  then  he  would  also  know  the 
worse,  since  the  same  science  comprehended  both.  And 
I  rejoiced  to  think  that  I  had  found  in  Anaxagoras  a 
teacher  of  the  causes  of  existence  such  as  I  desired,  and 
I  imagined  that  he  would  tell  me  first  whether  the  earth 
is  flat  or  round;  and  whichever  was  true,  he  would  pro- 
ceed to  explain  the  cause  and  the  necessity  of  this  being 
so,  and  then  he  would  teach  me  the  nature  of  the  best 
and  show  that  this  was  best;  and  if  he  said  that  the  earth 
was  in  the  centre,  he  would  further  explain  that  this 
position  was  the  best,  and  I  should  be  satisfied  with  the 
explanation  given,  and  not  want  any  other  sort  of  cause. 
And  I  thought  that  I  would  then  go  on  and  ask  him 
about  the  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  and  that  he  would 
explain  to  me  their  comparative  swiftness,  and  their 
returnings  and  various  states,  active  and  passive,  and 
how  all  of  them  were  for  the  best.  For  I  could  not 
imagine  that  when  he  spoke  of  mind  as  the  disposer  of 
them,  he  would  give  any  other  account  of  their  being  as 
they  are,  except  that  this  was  best;  and  I  thought  that 
when  he  had  explained  to  me  in  detail  the  cause  of  each 
and  the  cause  of  all,  he  would  go  on  to  explain  to  me 
what  was  best  for  each  and  what  was  good  for  all.  These 
hopes  I  would  not  have  sold  for  a  large  sum  of  money, 
and  I  seized  the  books  and  read  them  as  fast  as  I  could 
in  my  eagerness  to  know  the  better  and  the  worse. 

What  expectations  I  had  formed,  and  how  grievous- 
ly was  I  disappointed!  As  I  proceeded,  I  found  my 
philosopher  altogether  forsaking  mind  or  any  other 
principle  of  order,  but  having  recourse  to  air,  and  ether, 


SOCRATES  99 

and  water,  and  other  eccentricities.  I  might  compare 
him  to  a  person  who  began  by  maintaining  generally 
that  mind  is  the  cause  of  the  actions  of  Socrates,  but 
who,  when  he  endeavored  to  explain  the  causes  of  my 
several  actions  in  detail,  w^nt  on  to  show  that  I  sit  here 
because  my  body  is  made  up  of  bones  and  muscles;  and 
the  bones,  as  he  would  say,  are  hard  and  have  joints 
which  divide  them,  and  the  muscles  are  elastic,  and  they 
cover  the  bones,  which  have  also  a  covering  or  environ- 
ment of  flesh  and  skin  which  contains  them;  and  as  the 
bones  are  lifted  at  their  joints  by  the  contraction  or 
relaxation  of  the  muscles,  I  am  able  to  bend  my  limbs, 
and  this  is  why  I  am  sitting  here  in  a  curved  posture — 
that  is  what  he  would  say;  and  he  would  have  a  similar 
explanation  of  my  talking  to  you,  which  he  would  at- 
tribute to  sound,  and  air,  and  hearing,  and  he  would 
assign  ten  thousand  other  causes  of  the  same  sort,  forget- 
ting to  mention  the  true  cause,  which  is,  that  the  Athe- 
nians have  thought  fit  to  condemn  me,  and  accordingly 
I  have  thought  it  better  and  more  right  to  remain  here 
and  undergo  my  sentence;  for  I  am  inclined  to  think 
that  these  muscles  and  bones  of  mine  would  have  gone 
off  long  ago  to  Megara  or  Boeotia — by  the  dog  they 
would,  if  they  had  been  moved  only  by  their  own  idea 
of  what  was  best,  and  if  I  had  not  chosen  the  better  and 
nobler  part,  instead  of  playing  truant  and  running  away, 
of  enduring  any  punishment  which  the  state  inflicts. 
There  is  surely  a  strange  confusion  of  causes  and  con- 
ditions in  all  this.  It  may  be  said,  indeed,  that  without 
bones  and  muscles  and  the  other  parts  of  the  body  I 
cannot  execute  my  purposes.  But  to  say  that  I  do  as  I 
do  because  of  them,  and  that  this  is  the  way  in  which 
mind  acts,  and  not  from  the  choice  of  the  best,  is  a  very 


100       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

careless  and  idle  mode  of  speaking.  I  wonder  that  they 
cannot  distinguish  the  cause  from  the  condition,  which 
the  many,  feeling  about  in  the  dark,  are  always  mis- 
taking and  misnaming.  And  thus  one  man  makes  a 
vortex  all  round  and  steadies  the  earth  by  the  heaven; 
another  gives  the  air  as  a  support  to  the  earth,  which  is 
a  sort  of  broad  trough.  Any  power  which  in  arranging 
them  as  they  are  arranges  them  for  the  best  never  enters 
into  their  minds;  and  instead  of  finding  any  superior 
strength  in  it,  they  rather  expect  to  discover  another 
Atlas  of  the  world  who  is  stronger  and  more  everlasting 
and  more  containing  than  the  good; — of  the  obligatory 
and  containing  power  of  the  good  they  think  nothing; 
and  yet  this  is  the  principle  which  I  would  fain  learn  if 
any  one  would  teach  me.  But  as  I  have  failed  either 
to  discover  myself,  or  to  learn  of  any  one  else,  the  nature 
of  the  best,  I  will  exhibit  to  you,  if  you  like,  what  I  have 
found  to  be  the  second  best  mode  of  inquiring  into  the 
cause. 

I  should  very  much  like  to  hear,  he  replied. 

Socrates  proceeded:  I  thought  that  as  I  had  failed 
in  the  contemplation  of  true  existence,  I  ought  to  be 
careful  that  I  did  not  lose  the  eye  of  my  soul ;  as  people 
may  injure  their  bodily  eye  by  observing  and  gazing  on 
the  sun  during  an  eclipse,  unless  they  take  the  pre- 
caution of  only  looking  at  the  image  reflected  in  the  water 
or  in  some  similar  medium.  So  in  my  own  case,  I  was 
afraid  that  my  soul  might  be  blinded  altogether  if  I 
looked  at  things  with  my  eyes  or  tried  to  apprehend 
them  by  the  help  of  the  senses.  And  I  thought  that  I 
had  better  have  recourse  to  the  world  of  mind  and  seek 
there  the  truth  of  existence.  I  dare  say  that  the  simile 
is  not  perfect — for  I  am  very  far  from  admitting  that 


SOCRATES  101 

he  who  contemplates  existences  through  the  medium 
of  thought,  sees  them  only  ^'through  a  glass  darkly/'  any 
more  than  he  who  considers  them  in  action  and  opera- 
tion. However,  this  was  the  method  which  I  adopted: 
I  first  assumed  some  principle  which  I  judged  to  be  the 
strongest,  and  then  I  affirmed  as  true  whatever  seemed 
to  agree  with  this,  whether  relating  to  the  cause  or  to 
anything  else;  and  that  which  disagreed  I  regarded  as 
untrue. 

AN   ILLUSTRATION   OF  SOCRATES's    METHOD   OF   SHOWING   UP 
IGNORANCE  ^^ 

[Socrates  speaks :] 

By  the  gods,  Meno,  be  generous,  and  tell  me  what  you 
say  that  virtue  is;  for  I  shall  be  truly  delighted  to  find 
that  I  have  been  mistaken,  and  that  you  and  Gorgias 
do  really  have  this  knowledge;  although  I  have  been  just 
saying  that  I  have  never  found  anybody  who  had. 

Meno — There  will  be  no  difficulty,  Socrates,  in  answer- 
ing your  question.  Let  us  take  first  the  virtue  of  a 
man — he  should  know  how  to  administer  the  state,  and 
in  the  administration  of  it  to  benefit  his  friends  and 
harm  his  enemies;  and  he  must  also  be  careful  not  to 
suffer  harm  himself.  A  woman's  virtue,  if  you  wish  to 
know  about  that,  may  also  be  easily  described :  her  duty 
is  to  order  her  house,  and  keep  what  is  indoors,  and 
obey  her  husband.  Every  age,  every  condition  of  fife, 
young  or  old,  male  or  female,  bond  or  free,  has  a  different 
virtue;  there  are  virtues  numberless,  and  no  lack  of 
definitions  of  them;  for  virtue  is  relative  to  the  actions 
and  ages  of  each  of  us  in  all  that  we  do.  And  the  same 
may  be  said  of  vice,  Socrates. 

"  From  the  Meno  of  Plato,  beginning  on  p.  71  D.  Jowett's 
translation. 


102       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Soc. — How  fortunate  I  am,  Meno.  When  I  ask  you 
for  one  virtue,  you  present  me  with  a  swarm  of  them, 
which  are  in  your  keeping.  Suppose  that  I  carry  on  the 
figure  of  the  swarm,  and  ask  of  you,  What  is  the  nature 
of  the  bee?  and  you  answer  that  there  are  many  kinds 
of  bees,  and  I  reply :  But  do  bees  differ  as  bees,  because 
there  are  many  and  different  kinds  of  them ;  or  are  they 
not  rather  to  be  distinguished  by  some  other  quality, 
as  for  example  beauty,  size,  or  shape?  How  would 
you  answer  me  ? 

[After  a  little  further  questioning,  Socrates  succeeds 
in  showing  Meno  that  what  is  wanted  is  not  an  enumer- 
ation of  different  virtues,  but  a  common  definition  of 
virtue.] 

Men. — Will  you  have  one  definition  of  them  all? 

Soc. — That  is  what  I  am  seeking. 

Men. — If  you  want  to  have  one  definition  of  them  all, 
I  know  not  what  to  say,  but  that  virtue  is  the  power 
of  governing  mankind. 

[Socrates  then  leads  Meno  to  confess  that  this  cannot 
describe  the  virtue  of  all,  of  children,  e.  g.,  and  slaves, 
and,  indeed,  that  it  cannot  describe  any  man's  virtue, 
unless  we  add  the  words  justly  and  not  unjustly,  which 
would  introduce  a  vicious  circle.  Meno  then  enumerates 
the  different  recognized  virtues,  courage,  temperance, 
etc.  But  this  brings  back  the  difficulty  of  his  first 
answer.     So  he  makes  another  attempt:] 

Men. — Well,  then,  Socrates,  virtue,  as  I  take  it,  is 
when  he,  who  desires  the  honorable,  is  able  to  provide 
it  for  himself ;  so  the  poet  says,  and  I  say  too  : 

Virtue  is  the  desire  of  things  honorable  and  the  power  of  at- 
taining them. 

[Socrates  makes  Meno  admit  that  all  men  really  desire 


SOCRATES  103 

the  honorable,  so  that  nothing  is  left  of  his  definition 
but  "the  power  of  attaining  it";  and  to  make  this  virtue, 
we  must  again  introduce  the  qualification,  ''of  attaining 
it  with  justice,"  which  once  more  lands  us  in  a  circle. 
In  despair  Meno  exclaims :] 

Men. — 0  Socrates,  I  used  to  be  told,  before  I  knew 
you,  that  you  were  always  doubting  yourseK  and  making 
others  doubt;  and  now  you  are  casting  your  spells  over 
me,  and  I  am  simply  getting  bewitched  and  enchanted, 
and  am  at  my  wits'  end.  And  if  I  may  venture  to  make 
a  jest  upon  you,  you  seem  to  me  both  in  your  appearance 
and  in  your  power  over  others  to  be  very  like  the  flat 
torpedo  fish,  who  torpifies  those  who  come  near  him  and 
touch  him,  as  you  have  now  torpified  me,  I  think.  For 
my  soul  and  my  tongue  are  really  torpid,  and  I  do  not 
know  how  to  answer  you;  and  though  I  have  been 
delivered  of  an  infinite  variety  of  speeches  about  virtue 
before  now,  and  to  many  persons — and  very  good  ones 
they  were,  as  I  thought — at  this  moment  I  cannot  even 
say  what  virtue  is. 


SOCRATES'S    DEFENCE    OF    HIMSELF  AS    RE- 
PORTED BY  PLATO  IN  THE  APOLOGY 

What  impression  my  accusers  have  made  upon  you, 
fellow-Athenians,  I  cannot  say.  For  my  part,  I  came 
near  forgetting  who  I  was;  they  spoke  so  plausibly. 
Yet  there  was  scarcely  a  word  of  truth  in  what  they  said. 
But  of  the  many  lies  they  told  there  was  one  which 
astonished  me  most  of  all.  I  mean  the  one  where  they 
told  you  you  would  have  to  be  on  your  guard  lest  I 
deceive  you,  because  I  am  a  clever  speaker.  They  did 
indeed  seem  to  me  most  brazen-faced,  not  to  be  ashamed 
to  say  that,  when  they  were  sure  to  be  confuted  by  me 
the  moment  I  opened  my  mouth  and  exhibited  myself 
as  anything  but  a  clever  speaker; — unless,  indeed,  they 
mean  by  ''clever  speaker"  one  who  speaks  the  truth. 
If  that  is  what  they  mean  I  am  ready  to  confess  that  I 
am  eloquent,  though  not  after  the  fashion  of  their 
eloquence. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  my  accusers  have  spoken 
scarcely  a  word  of  truth.  From  me,  however,  you  shall 
hear  the  whole  truth.  But,  Athenians,  you  will  not 
hear  a  speech  like  theirs,  carefully  constructed,  and 
decked  out  with  fine  words  and  phrases.  Far  from  it. 
I  shall  speak  without  preparation,  in  the  words  that 
come  first  to  my  lips.  For  I  am  sure  that  my  cause  is 
just.  Let  no  one  expect  any  different  course,  for  it 
would  surely  be  unseemly  that  at  my  time  of  life  I  should 

104 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  105 

come  before  you  forging  arguments  like  a  callow  youth. 
But  there  is  one  favor,  Athenians,  that  I  do  most  earnest- 
ly request  of  you.  If  in  defending  myself  I  use  the  same 
words  I  am  accustomed  to  use  in  the  market-place, 
at  the  tables  of  the  money  changers,  and  elsewhere, 
where  many  of  you  have  heard  me,  do  not  be  surprised, 
and  do  not  interrupt  me  for  that.  The  fact  is,  I  am 
seventy  years  old  and  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  have 
appeared  in  court,  and  so  I  am  altogether  a  stranger  to 
your  manner  of  speech.  Were  I  in  truth  a  stranger  you 
would,  I  am  sure,  pardon  me  for  speaking  in  my  native 
dialect  and  in  the  way  that  use  had  made  familiar.  And 
so  now  I  beg  that  you  will  look  upon  me  in  that  light, 
and  grant  this  request,  which  I  think  I  have  a  right  to 
make:  Pay  no  heed  to  my  manner  of  speaking,  which 
may  or  may  not  be  good;  but  look  to  this  only,  give  your 
undivided  attention  to  this:  Is  what  I  say  right,  or  is  it 
not?  That  is  what  makes  an  excellent  judge,  as  speak- 
ing the  truth  makes  an  excellent  orator. 

In  the  first  place,  fellow-Athenians,  it  is  but  right  that 
I  should  defend  myself  against  my  old,  old  accusers, 
and  answer  their  false  charges.  After  that  I  will  take 
up  the  charges  of  my  present  accusers.  For  my  accusers 
are  many,  and  now  full  many  a  year  they  have  been 
accusing  me  falsety  to  you.  It  is  these  old  accusers 
that  I  fear,  rather  than  Anytus  and  his  accompHces, 
formidable  though  they  be.  But,  my  friends,  the  old 
accusers  are  the  more  formidable,  for  they  got  hold  of 
most  of  you  when  you  were  mere  boys  and  poured  into 
your  ears  their  false  charges  against  me,  persuading  you 
that  there  is  one  Socrates,  a  wise  man,  who  speculates 
about  the  heavens  above  and  pries  into  all  the  secrets 
of  the  earth  beneath,  and  who  makes  the  worse  appear 


106      SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

the  better  reason.  The  men  who  have  been  spreading 
that  tale  are,  fellow-Athenians,  the  accusers  whom  I  fear. 
For  their  hearers  suppose  that  persons  who  pursue  such 
investigations  do  not  even  believe  in  gods.  Then,  too, 
those  accusers  are  many,  and  they  have  been  at  it  a  long 
while,  and  they  got  a  hearing  at  a  time  when  you  would 
be  most  easily  persuaded,  for  you  were  mere  boys,  some 
of  you  just  crossing  the  threshold  of  youth.  And  the 
case  went  against  me  by  default,  for  there  was  none  to 
answer  their  charges.  And  the  most  absurd  part  of  it 
is  that  I  do  not  even  know  their  names  and  cannot  tell 
you  who  they  are — except  in  the  chance  case  of  a  writer 
of  comedies.  All  these  men  who,  through  envy  or  malice, 
persuaded  you, — and  some  of  them  quite  likely  sought  to 
persuade  others  because  they  themselves  had  first  been 
persuaded, — these  are  the  accusers  it  is  hardest  to  answer. 
For  I  cannot  call  any  one  of  them  into  court  to  cross- 
examine  him.  I  must  defend  myseK  exactly  as  if  I 
were  fighting  shadows,  and  cross-examine  where  there 
is  none  to  answer. 

Assume  with  me,  then,  that  my  accusers  are  of  two 
kinds,  as  I  was  saying:  those  who  have  brought  the 
present  charge,  and  my  old  time  accusers  whom  I've 
just  been  describing.  And  by  your  leave  111  answer  my 
old  accusers  first,  for  you  heard  them  first,  and  much 
oftener  than  the  rest.  Well,  I  must  make  my  defence, 
fellow-Athenians,  and  see  if  I  can  clear  away  in  the  short 
time  at  my  disposal,  the  prejudice  which  you  have  had 
against  me  for  many  a  year.  Would  that  might  be 
the  result,  if  so  it  is  best  for  you  and  for  me;  would 
I  might  succeed  in  my  defence !  However,  let  the  issue 
be  as  God  wills.  In  obedience  to  the  law  I  must  now 
make  my  defence. 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  107 

Let  us  begin  at  the  beginning  then  and  ask,  What  is 
the  charge  that  has  created  the  prejudice  against  me 
which  Meletus  is  relying  on  in  bringing  me  to  trial? 
Just  what  is  the  slander  my  enemies  have  been  spread- 
ing? Let  us  word  their  affidavit,  as  if  their  charge  had 
been  brought  before  a  court  in  regular  form.  It  would 
read  something  like  this:  ' 'Socrates  is  a  wicked  man. 
He  is  a  meddlesome  person  who  pries  into  the  secrets 
of  earth  and  of  heaven,  a  man  who  makes  the  worse 
appear  the  better  reason;  and  he  teaches  other  men  to 
do  the  same  things."  So  it  runs.  It  is  what  you  your- 
selves have  seen  in  the  comedy  of  Aristophanes,  where 
he  represents  a  certain  Socrates  swinging  about  in  a 
basket  and  declaring  that  he  is  walking  on  air  and 
driveUing  on  at  a  great  rate  about  matters  concerning 
which  I  don't  make  the  slightest  pretence  of  having  any 
knowledge  whatever.  I  speak  with  no  intention  of 
disparaging  such  knowledge,  if  any  one  has  wisdom  like 
that.  I  trust  I  may  not  be  brought  to  trial  by  Meletus 
on  so  grave  a  count  as  that.  But  the  truth  is,  fellow- 
Athenians,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  physical  specula- 
tions. I  can  furnish  plenty  of  witnesses  on  this  point 
from  your  own  number.  I  ask  those  of  you  who  have 
heard  me, — and  that  is  certainly  a  goodly  nimiber, — 
to  speak  to  your  neighbors  and  tell  them  whether 
they  have  ever  heard  me  saying  anything  whatsoever 
about  such  subjects.  .  .  .  There!  That  answer  will 
show  you  that  the  other  charges  current  about  me  are 
of  the  same  stripe. 

No,  there  is  no  truth  in  any  of  these  charges.  And  if 
you  have  heard  any  one  say  that  I  set  myself  up  as  a 
teacher  of  men  and  exact  a  fee  for  my  services,  there's 
no  truth  In  that  either.     Not  that  I  don't  think  it  would 


108       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

be  a  fine  thing  to  be  able  to  teach  men,  as  Gorgias  of 
Leontium  does,  or  Prodicus  of  Ceos,  or  Hippias  of  Elis. 
Any  one  of  them  can  go  into  any  city  he  likes  and  per- 
suade the  young  men  to  forsake  the  society  of  their 
fellow-citizens,  from  whom  they  could  choose  their 
companions  at  will  and  without  bribes,  and  to  associate 
with  him  and  to  pay  him  for  the  privilege,  and  be  only 
too  glad  to  do  so.  And  I've  just  heard  that  there  is 
another  wise  man,  a  Parian,  who  has  lately  come  to 
town.  The  other  day  I  ran  across  Callias  the  son  of 
Hipponicus,  a  man  who  has  spent  more  money  on  the 
Sophists  than  all  the  rest  put  together.  Knowing  he  had 
two  sons  I  said  to  him:  ''Callias,  if  your  sons  had  been 
colts  or  calves  we  should  have  no  difficulty  in  hiring  a 
trainer  who  was  likely  to  bring  out  all  the  perfections  that 
belong  to  their  nature :  we  should  get  some  skilful  groom 
or  farmer.  But  now,  seeing  that  they  are  human  beings, 
whom  do  you  intend  to  put  in  charge  of  their  training? 
Who  is  there  that  has  the  knowledge  of  that  kind  of 
excellence,  the  excellence  of  the  man  and  of  the  citizen  ? 
I  don't  doubt,  having  sons,  you've  considered  the  ques- 
tion. Is  there  any  such  person?"  ''Yes,  indeed,  there 
is,"  he  repUed.  "Who  is  he,"  I  said,  "and  where  does 
he  hail  from,  and  what's  his  fee?"  "His  name  is 
Evenus,"  he  replied,  "and  he  comes  from  Paros,  and  he 
charges  five  minse."  And  I  thought  to  myself,  happy 
is  Evenus,  if  he  really  has  this  wisdom,  and  sells  it  so 
cheap.  Had  I  such  wisdom  I  should  be  fairly  puffed 
up  with  pride.  But  the  fact  is,  fellow-Athenians,  I  have 
it  not. 

Here  perhaps  some  of  you  will  reply:  But,  Socrates, 
what  is  this  occupation  of  yours?  AVhence  come  these 
calumnies?    Surely  all  this  rimior  and  talk  would  never 


SOCRATES'S  DEFENCE  OF  HIMSELF  109 

have  arisen  had  you  not  been  different  from  other  men. 
You  must  have  been  engaged  in  some  very  unusual 
pursuit.  Tell  us,  then,  what  it  is,  that  we  may  not  be 
guilty  of  judging  you  off-hand.  That,  I  take  it,  is  a 
fair  challenge;  and,  if  you  will  give  me  your  attention, 
I'll  try  to  explain  to  you  what  has  caused  the  calumny 
and  given  me  this  reputation.  I  am  afraid  some  of  you 
will  think  I  am  trifling;  but,  rest  assured,  I  will  simply 
tell  you  the  whole  truth.  Fellow-Athenians,  I  have 
acquired  this  reputation  simply  because  of  a  certain 
kind  of  wisdom  which  I  do  possess.  You  a^k,  And  what 
kind  of  wisdom,  pray,  is  that?  I  answer.  The  kind  that 
is,  I  think,  attainable  by  man.  It  is  just  possible  I 
really  am  wise  in  that  way;  whereas  the  men  of  whom 
I  was  just  speaking  are  wise  with  what  may  perhaps 
be  called  a  superhuman  wisdom.  I  don't  know  how 
else  to  describe  it,  for  I  don't  pretend  to  have  it  myself. 
No,  and  whoever  says  that  I  do,  lies,  and  is  trying  to 
slander  me.  And  I  beg  of  you,  fellow-Athenians,  that 
you  will  not  hoot  at  me  even  if  you  think  what  I  am 
about  to  say  very  arrogant;  for  the  words  I  shall  speak 
are  not  my  own.  I  shall  bring  you  as  their  author  one 
who  is  worthy  of  your  confidence;  I  shall  summon  the 
god  of  Delphi  to  testify  of  my  wisdom,  whether  I  have 
any,  and  of  what  sort  it  is.  You  remember  Chaerephon, 
don't  you?  He  was  my  comrade  from  his  youth  up. 
And  most  of  you  have  had  him  for  a  comrade;  for  he 
went  into  exile  with  you,  and  with  you  he  returned. 
And  of  course  you  remember  what  sort  of  a  man  he 
was,  how  impetuously  he  threw  himself  into  everything 
he  undertook.  Well,  on  one  occasion,  he  went  to 
Delphi  and  actually  had  the  temerity  to  put  this  question 
to  the  oracle, — and  once  more,  friends,  I  beg  you  not  to 


110       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

cry  out  against  me, — he  asked  if  there  was  any  one  wiser 
than  I.  Now  the  Pythian  priestess  answered  that  there 
was  no  man  wiser.  Chserephon  is  dead,  but  his  brother 
here  will  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  what  I  say. 

Now  observe  why  I  tell  you  this.  It  is  because  I 
mean  to  show  you  the  origin  of  the  prejudice  against 
me.  When  I  heard  the  response  of  the  oracle,  I  said  to 
myself:  Whatever  does  the  god  mean?  What  is  the 
explanation  of  his  riddle?  For  I  well  know  that  I  am 
not  a  wise  man, — not  in  the  least.  What  then  could  he 
have  meant  by  saying  that  I  am  the  wisest  of  men? 
He  certainly  didn't  tell  a  he:  he  is  a  god  and  couldn't 
do  that.  For  a  long  time  I  puzzled  over  his  meaning. 
Then,  after  much  dehberation,  I  hit  upon  this  way  of 
finding  it  out.  I  went  to  one  of  the  citizens  who  was  in 
high  repute  for  his  wisdom,  thinking  that  there,  if  any- 
where, I  could  prove  the  response  wrong;  and  meaning 
then  to  go  to  the  oracle  and  say:  ''You  said  I  was  the 
wisest  of  men:  lo!  here  is  a  wiser.''  Well,  I  examined 
the  man, — I  needn't  mention  his  name :  he  was  a  politician 
— and  this  was  my  experience  with  him.  As  I  talked 
with  him  it  became  apparent  that  while  he  passed  for  a 
wise  man  in  the  eyes  of  a  great  many  persons,  and  most 
of  all  in  his  own  eyes,  he  was  not  wise  at  all.  And  then 
I  tried  to  show  him  that  he  was  not  wise,  though  he 
fancied  that  he  was.  The  result  was,  he  hated  me  for  it; 
and  many  of  those  who  were  standing  by  hated  me  too. 
And  as  I  walked  away  I  thought  to  myself,  'T  am  wiser 
than  that  man.  Probably  neither  of  us  knows  anything 
very  much  worth  while;  but  he  thinks  that  he  knows, 
when  in  reality  he  does  not;  I  neither  know  nor  think 
that  I  know.  On  this  small  point  at  any  rate  I  seem  to 
have  the  best  of  him:  I  do  not  fancy  that  I  know  when 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF  HIMSELF  111 

in  reality  I  am  in  ignorance."  And  then  I  went  to 
another  man,  who  was  held  in  still  higher  repute  for  his 
wisdom,  and  he  taught  me  the  same  lesson.  And  there 
again  I  made  an  enemy  of  him,  and  of  all  of  his  friends. 

Well,  then,  I  went  to  one  man  after  another.  I  saw 
that  I  was  making  enemies  all  the  while ;  and  I  was  sorry 
for  that,  and  feared  the  result.  Still,  I  couldn't  help  it; 
I  had  to  put  the  command  of  God  above  every  other 
consideration.  So,  in  my  search  for  the  meaning  of  the 
oracle,  I  must  make  the  rounds,  going  to  all  who  were 
reputed  to  be  in  any  way  wise.  And  I  swear  to  you, 
fellow-Athenians,  by  the  dog  of  Egj^pt  I  swear, — for  I 
must  tell  you  the  truth, — this  was  the  upshot  of  my 
divinely  appointed  quest.  The  men  held  in  highest 
esteem  for  their  wisdom  proved  to  be  just  about  the 
most  lacking  in  it;  while  others  who  are  looked  down  upon 
as  people  of  the  common  sort  were  really  wiser  than  they. 

Now  1  must  tell  you  the  tale  of  my  wanderings,  of  the 
Herculean  labors  I  endured,  only  to  find  in  the  end  that 
the  oracle  was  irrefutable.  After  I  had  made  trial  of 
the  politicians  I  went  to  the  poets,  tragic,  dithyrambic, 
and  the  rest,  thinking  that  there  I  should  be  flagrantly 
trapped  in  my  ignorance.  So  I  would  take  up  their 
poems  upon  which  they  had  apparently  bestowed  most 
pains,  and  would  ask  them  what  they  meant,  hoping 
that  thereby  I  might  learn  something  from  them.  Well, 
my  friends,  I  am  almost  ashamed  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
but  I  can't  help  it.  The  fact  is,  there  is  hardly  a  person 
present  who  could  not  discuss  the  works  of  the  poets 
better  than  the  poets  themselves.  So  it  didn't  take  long 
to  discover  that  the  poets,  in  making  their  poems,  are 
guided,  not  by  wisdom,  but  by  a  sort  of  divine  frenzy 
like  that  which  possesses  the  prophets  and  the  sooth- 


112       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

sayers.  They  too  say  many  beautiful  things  without 
knowing  the  meaning  of  what  they  say.  It  was  clear  to 
me  that  the  poets  had  come  under  some  such  spell. 
And  at  the  same  time  I  observed  that,  because  of  their 
skill  in  poetry,  they  fancied  themselves  the  wisest  of 
men  in  other  matters  too,  which  they  didn't  know  at  all. 
So  as  I  went  away  I  thought  to  myself  that  I  had  the 
same  advantage  over  them  that  I  had  over  the  politicians. 

Last  of  all  I  went  to  the  artisans.  I  was  well  aware 
that  I  knew  nothing  of  any  consequence,  and  I  was  sure 
that  I  should  find  them  possessed  of  much  admirable 
knowledge.  And  I  was  not  mistaken  about  this:  they 
did  know  things  I  am  ignorant  of,  and,  in  so  far,  were 
wiser  than  I.  But,  fellow-Athenians,  I  found  that  even 
the  skilled  artisans  made  the  same  mistake  as  the  poets. 
Every  man  of  them,  because  he  was  skilled  in  his  par- 
ticular craft,  fancied  himself  mighty  wise  in  other 
matters, — and  matters  of  the  greatest  importance;  and 
this  fault  of  theirs  cast  their  wisdom  in  the  shade.  And 
so  I  asked  myself,  on  behalf  of  the  oracle,  whether  I 
would  rather  remain  as  I  am,  having  neither  their  wisdom 
nor  their  ignorance,  or  have  their  wisdom  together  with 
their  ignorance.  And  the  answer  I  made  to  myseK  and 
to  the  oracle  was:  "1  am  better  off  as  I  am." 

It  is  this  inquisitorial  task,  fellow-Athenians,  that 
has  made  me  so  many  enemies  of  the  most  fierce  and 
bitter  kind.  It  is  this  that  has  given  me  the  name  of 
'Vise  man,"  and  that  is  responsible  for  all  their  calumni- 
ous charges.  For  the  bystanders  always  think  that  I 
myself  possess  the  wisdom  that  I  show  to  be  lacking  in 
others.  But,  my  friends,  I  suspect  that  God  alone  is 
truly  wise,  and,  by  that  oracular  response,  he  meant 
to  say  that  our  human  wisdom  is  of  little  or  no  worth. 


SOCRATES'S  DEFENCE  OF  HIMSELF  113 

Apparently  he  wasn't  speaking  of  me,  Socrates.  I  think 
he  just  used  my  name,  and  took  me  for  an  illustration, 
as  if  he  would  say  to  mankind:  ^'He  is  wisest  among  you 
who,  like  Socrates,  has  found  out  that  in  truth  his 
wisdom  is  worth  nothing  at  all."  And  so  I  still  go  about, 
obedient  to  God's  command,  probing  and  testing  any 
one  whom  I  take  to  be  wise,  whether  he  be  a  citizen  or  a 
stranger.  And  whenever  I  find  that  he  is  not  wise, 
I  show  him  that  he  is  not,  and  thereby  serve  Apollo. 
This  occupation  has  kept  me  so  busy  that  I  have  had 
no  time  to  take  any  part  worth  mentioning  in  pubUc 
affairs,  or  even  to  look  after  my  private  interests.  I 
am  in  deep  poverty  because  of  my  service  to  God. 

And  besides  all  this  (there  is  another  reason  for  my 
unpopularity).  The  young  of  the  richer  class,  who  have 
a  lot  of  spare  time,  follow  me  about  of  their  own  accord, 
and  take  delight  in  hearing  men  cross-examined.  And 
they  often  imitate  me  themselves,  and  try  their  hand  at 
cross-examining  others.  And  I  suspect  they  find  no  end 
of  men  who  think  they  know  a  great  deal,  when  in  fact 
they  know  precious  little.  The  result  is,  when  their 
sham  wisdom  has  been  shown  up,  they  get  angry  with 
me  rather  than  with  the  young  men,  and  vow,  'That 
fellow  Socrates  is  the  plague  of  the  town,  and  he  cor- 
rupts the  youth."  And  if  any  one  asks  them.  ''How? 
What  does  he  do?  What  does  he  teach?"  they  do  not 
know  and  have  nothing  to  say.  But,  in  order  not  to 
seem  at  a  loss,  they  repeat  the  old  stock  charges  made 
against  all  philosophers, — Prying  into  things  up  in  the 
clouds  or  under  the  earth,  not  believing  in  gods,  and 
making  the  worse  appear  the  better  reason.  I  can 
readily  believe  that  they  would  scarcely  relish  telling 
the  truth,  which  is  that  they  have  been  convicted  of  lay- 


114       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

ing  claim  to  a  wisdom  they  do  not  possess.  And  I  don't 
doubt  they  have  been  fiUing  your  ears  this  many  a  day 
with  their  bitter  accusations;  for  there  are  lots  of  them, 
and  they  are  energetic,  and  keen  for  notoriety,  and  they 
speak  plausibly,  and  they  are  all  lined  up  against  me. 
This  is  the  reason  why  Meletus  and  Anytus  and  Lycon 
have  attacked  me.  Meletus  is  taking  up  the  quarrel 
on  behalf  of  the  poets,  Anytus  on  behalf  of  the  crafts- 
men and  politicians,  Lycon  on  behalf  of  the  rhetoricians. 
And  so,  as  I  remarked  at  the  outset,  I  should  be  sur- 
prised if  I  were  able  in  the  short  time  at  my  disposal  to 
remove  a  prejudice  that  has  taken  such  deep  hold  upon 
you.  There,  fellow-Athenians!  I  have  given  you  the 
plain,  unvarnished  truth,  and  the  whole  truth.  And 
yet  I  am  tolerably  sure  that  it  is  just  this  my  bluntness 
of  speech  that  makes  me  enemies.  That  indeed  is  a 
proof  that  I  am  telling  you  the  truth,  and  that  the 
prejudice  against  me  and  its  causes  are  as  I  have  said. 
And  if  you  will  look  into  this  matter,  now  or  at  any 
future  time,  you  will  find  that  it  is  so. 

Let  this  suffice  for  my  defence  against  the  charges 
brought  by  my  earliest  accusers.  I  will  next  attempt 
to  reply  to  Meletus, — ^ 'noble  patriot,"  as  he  styles  him- 
self,— and  to  my  later  accusers.  Let  us  assume  them  to 
be  a  different  set  of  accusers,  and  let  us  once  more  frame 
the  indictment.  It  runs  something  like  this :  Socrates  is 
guilty,  it  says,  in  that  he  corrupts  the  youth,  and  does 
not  believe  in  the  gods  of  his  country,  but  has  other  and 
strange  divinities  of  his  own.  So  runs  the  charge.  Let 
us  examine  it  point  by  point.  The  first  count  is,  that  I 
am  guilty  in  that  I  corrupt  the  youth.  But  for  my  part, 
fellow-Athenians,  I  charge  that  Meletus  is  the  culprit, 
in  thus  mixing  jest  with  earnest,  and  lightly  bringing 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE   OF   HIMSELF  115 

men  to  trial,  and  pretending  to  be  very  earnest  and  very 
solicitous  about  matters  to  which  he  has  n^ver  given  a 
moment's  thought.  And  I  will  try  to  make  it  as  plain 
to  you  as  it  is  to  me  that  such  is  the  case. 

''Come,  Meletus,  take  the  stand  and  answer  my 
question.  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  you  have  very  much  at 
heart  the  improvement  of  the  youth?" 

"It  is." 

''Well,  then,  tell  the  judges  who  it  is  that  improves 
them.  You  must  know,  for  you  care  so  much  about  it. 
You  have  discovered,  as  you  say,  that  I  am  their  cor- 
rupter, and  are  bringing  me  to  trial  on  that  charge. 
Come,  name  the  man  who  is  their  improver,  tell  the 
judges  who  he  is.  You  see,  Meletus,  you  are  silent; 
you  have  nothing  to  say.  And  yet  don't  you  think 
that  this  is  disgraceful ?  Doesn't  your  silence  sufficiently 
prove  the  truth  of  what  I  was  just  saying,  that  you  have 
never  given  this  matter  a  moment's  thought?  Speak 
up,  my  good  sir,  who  is  it  that  makes  the  young  men 
better?" 

"The  laws." 

"But,  most  noble  Meletus,  that  was  not  what  I  asked. 
I  want  to  know  who  the  man  is  who  makes  them  better, 
assuming,  of  course,  that  he  has  to  begin  with  a  knowledge 
of  the  laws." 

"The  men  before  you,  Socrates, — the  judges." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Meletus?  Are  they  able  to 
instruct  the  young,  and  do  they  improve  them?" 

"Certainly." 

"All  of  them,  or  only  some  of  them?" 

"All  of  them." 

"By  the  goddess  Hera,  this  is  good  news  indeed. 
There  is  a  regular  host  of  improvers  of  youth.     And 


116       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

how  about  the  audience?  Do  they  improve  them 
too?" 

'They  do.'' 

''And  the  senators?" 

"The  senators,  too." 

"Well,  then,  take  the  members  of  the  assembly. 
Perchance  they  corrupt  them.  Or  do  they,  too,  without 
exception,  make  them  better?" 

"They,  too,  make  them  better." 

"Then  apparently  all  the  Athenians,  excepting  only 
me,  make  the  young  men  fair  and  virtuous.  I  am  their 
sole  corrupter.    Is  that  your  meaning?" 

"Most  emphatically  it  is." 

"Truly  you  have  found  me  in  a  sorry  plight.  But 
tell  me,  in  the  case  of  horses,  does  it  strike  you  that  it 
is  like  that, — I  mean,  that  some  one  man  does  them  harm 
while  all  the  rest  do  them  good?  Is  not  the  truth  pre- 
cisely the  contrary, — that  one  man,  or  at  most  a  few, 
namely  the  skilled  horse-trainers,  do  them  good,  while 
the  rest,  if  they  have  anything  to  do  with  them,  or  try  to 
break  them  in,  do  them  harm?  And  isn't  it  this  way, 
Meletus,  not  only  with  horses,  but  with  all  other  animals 
too?  Of  course  it  is,  whether  you  and  Anytus  say  yes 
or  no.  It  were  indeed  a  great  piece  of  good  fortune  for 
the  young  men  if  they  had  but  one  corrupter,  and  if 
every  one  else  did  them  good.  But  the  truth  is,  Meletus, 
you  have  clearly  proved  that  you  have  never  given  the 
slightest  thought  to  the  young.  You  make  your  care- 
lessness quite  evident;  you  show  that  you  have  never 
paid  the  slightest  heed  to  the  matters  about  which  you 
are  prosecuting  me. 

"Now,  once  more,  Meletus,  will  you  be  good  enough  to 
answer  a  question?    Is  it  better  to  live  among  bad 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  117 

citizens  or  among  good  ones?  Answer,  my  friend.  That 
is  surely  not  a  hard  question.  Do  not  the  bad  citizens 
do  their  neighbors  harm,  and  the  good  citizens  do  them 
good?" 

^^Certainly.^^ 

"And  is  there  any  one  who  would  deliberately  prefer 
to  be  harmed  rather  than  to  be  benefited  by  those  with 
whom  he  associates?  Answer,  my  friend,  the  law 
requires  you  to.     Does  any  one  want  to  be  injured?" 

"Of  course  not." 

"Well,  then,  are  you  bringing  me  to  trial  for  corrupting 
the  youth  and  making  them  worse  intentionally,  or  for 
doing  so  imintentionally?" 

"For  doing  so  intentionally." 

"What,  Meletus,  are  you  so  much  wiser  than  I, — you 
so  young,  and  I  so  old, — that  you  have  made  the  dis- 
covery that  evil  men  always  do  evil  to  their  neighbors, 
and  good  men  good,  whereas  I,  forsooth,  have  fallen  to 
such  a  depth  of  ignorance  as  not  to  be  aware  that  if  I 
make  a  rogue  of  a  fellow-citizen  he  is  likely  to  do  me 
harm?  And  so  I  commit  this  great  wrong  intentionally, 
as  you  aver?  Meletus,  you  will  never  convince  me  of 
that,  or  any  one  else,  I  trust.  No,  either  I  do  not  corrupt 
the  young  men  at  all,  or  I  do  so  unintentionally;  so  that 
in  either  case  your  statement  is  false.  And  if  I  corrupt 
them  unintentionally,  then  of  such  unintentional  mis- 
deeds the  law  takes  no  cognizance.  You  ought  rather 
to  have  taken  me  aside  and  taught  me  and  admonished 
me.  For  it  is  plain  that  I  shall  stop  sinning  unin- 
tentionally when  I  have  been  taught  better.  But  you 
have  always  avoided  me;  you  didn't  want  to  instruct  me. 
And  now  you  are  bringing  me  into  court,  where  the  law 
brings  men  for  punishment,  not  for  instruction." 


118       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Well,  fellow-Athenians,  you  must  find  it  quite  evident 
by  this  time  that,  as  I  was  saying,  Meletus  has  never 
troubled  himself  a  bit  about  these  matters.  ''However, 
tell  us,  Meletus,  in  what  way,  according  to  you,  I  corrupt 
the  youth.  Or  is  it  plain  enough  from  the  indictment 
you  have  brought,  that  it  is  by  teaching  them  not  to 
believe  in  the  gods  our  country  recognizes,  but  in  other 
and  strange  divinities?  You  say,  do  you  not,  that  this 
is  the  teaching  by  which  I  corrupt  the  youth?" 

''Precisely;  and  I  say  it  most  emphatically." 

"Then,  Meletus^  in  the  name  of  those  very  gods  of 
whom  we  are  speaking,  tell  me  and  my  judges  here  a 
little  more  clearly  what  you  mean.  I  can't  quite  make 
out  whether  you  accuse  me  of  teaching  them  to  believe 
in  some  gods — in  which  case  I  myself  believe  in  gods  and 
am  not  a  downright  atheist.  I  don't  offend  in  that  way. 
My  offence  is  rather  that  I  believe  in  strange  divinities, 
and  not  in  the  gods  of  my  country.  Or  whether  you 
accuse  me  of  not  believing  in  gods  at  all,  and  of  making 
atheists  of  others  too." 

"I  mean  that  you  are  a  downright  atheist." 

"My  good  fellow,  what  makes  you  say  that?  Do  you 
mean  to  say  that  I  don't  even  believe,  like  other  men, 
that  the  sun  and  the  moon  are  gods?  " 

"Judges,  I  swear,  by  heaven  I  swear,  he  does  not;  for 
he  says  the  sun  is  a  stone  and  the  moon  earth." 

"My  dear  Meletus,  you  must  think  you  are  prosecuting 
Anaxagoras!  Have  you  such  a  poor  opinion  of  the 
judges,  and  do  you  think  them  so  unlettered  as  not  to 
know  that  the  works  of  Anaxagoras  of  Clazomense  are 
chock  full  of  those  doctrines  ?  So  the  young  men  actually 
learn  those  doctrines  from  me,  do  they?  when  for  a 
drachma  at  most  they  can  often  hear  them  at  the  theatre,  ■ 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF  HIMSELF  119 

and  laugh  Socrates  to  scorn  if  he  pretends  they  are  his, 
— such  very  odd  doctrines,  too.  No,  but  honestly,  Mele- 
tus,  do  you  really  think  I  don't  believe  in  any  god  at  all?  " 

''I  do.  I  swear  by  heaven  that  you  do  not  believe 
in  any  god  at  all." 

"Nobody  beUeves  you,  Meletus.  Indeed,  I  feel  sure 
you  don't  believe  yourself."  It  seems  to  me,  fellow- 
Athenians,  that  my  accuser  is  an  insolent  and  impertinent 
young  man,  and  that  he  has  brought  this  indictment  in 
a  spirit  of  sheer  insolence  and  youthful  audacity.  He 
is  like  a  man  who  tries  to  pose  you  by  putting  a  paradox. 
And  he  is  saying  to  himself:  Will  the  wise  Socrates  see 
that  I  am  jesting  and  contradicting  myself,  or  shall  I 
succeed  in  befuddling  him  and  the  rest  of  my  hearers? 
For  he  plainly  contradicts  himself  in  the  indictment, 
just  as  if  he  were  to  say :  Socrates  is  a  wicked  man  because 
he  does  not  believe  in  gods,  but  believes  in  gods. 

If  you  will  follow  me,  friends,  you  will  see  how  I  find 
him  thus  inconsistent.  "Answer  me,  Meletus."  And 
I  hope  that  you,  my  judges,  will  remember  the  request 
I  made  at  the  beginning,  and  quietly  suffer  me  to  talk 
in  my  usual  way. 

"Is  there  any  one  in  the  world,  Meletus,  who  believes 
there  are  things  human,  while  at  the  same  time  not 
believing  there  are  any  himians?"  I  wish,  friends,  that 
he  would  answer  without  these  continual  interruptions. 
"  Is  there  any  one  who  believes  that  horsemanship  ex- 
ists, but  no  horses;  flute-playing,  but  no  flute-players? 
There  is  no  one,  my  dear  man;  I'll  tell  you  and  the  judges 
that,  if  you  don't  choose  to  answer.  But  at  least  answer 
my  next  question:  Is  there  any  one  who  believes  there 
are  divine  agencies,  while  at  the  same  time  not  believing 
that  there  are  divinities?" 


120       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

"There  is  no  one." 

''I  am  delighted  that  the  judges  have  at  last  managed 
to  pull  an  answer  from  you.  Well,  then,  you  say  that  I 
believe  in,  and  teach  others  to  believe  in  divine  agencies 
— no  matter  whether  new  or  old — at  all  events  I  believe 
in  divine  agencies.  I  have  your  own  word  for  that;  you 
swore  to  it  in  your  indictment.  Now,  if  I  believe  in 
divine  agencies,  surely  I  must  of  necessity  believe  that 
there  are  divinities.  That  follows,  doesn't  it?  Well, 
it  does.  I  assume  from  your  silence  that  you  admit  that. 
And  by  'divinities'  we  mean,  do  we  not,  either  gods  or 
sons  of  gods?    Yes  or  no?" 

''Yes,  certainly." 

"You  admit  then  that  I  believe  in  divinities.  Now 
if  these  divinities  are  a  species  of  gods,  then  there  is  my 
proof  that  you  are  trifling  and  speaking  in  riddles,  and 
are  saying  in  one  and  the  same  breath  that  I  do  not 
believe  in  gods  and  that  I  do  believe  in  gods,  inasmuch 
as  I  believe  in  divinities.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  these 
divinities  are  sons  of  gods,  their  natural  sons,  as  it  were, 
by  nymphs  or  some  other  mortal  mothers,  as  rumor 
makes  them, — why,  then,  let  me  ask  you,  is  there  any 
one  in  the  world  who  could  suppose  that  there  are  sons 
of  gods,  and  at  the  same  time  that  there  are  no  gods? 
That  would  be  just  as  absurd  as  to  hold  that  there  are 
mules,  and  to  hold  at  the  same  time  that  there  are 
neither  horses  nor  asses !  No,  Meletus,  you  must  surely 
have  brought  this  indictment  against  me  in  order  to 
make  trial  of  me, — or  else,  because  you  couldn't  find  any 
real  offence  to  charge  me  with.  But  you  will  never 
succeed,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  in  persuading  any  one 
who  has  a  scrap  of  intelligence,  that  one  and  the  same 
man  can  believe  in  supernatural  and  divine  agencies, 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  121 

and  yet  not  believe  that  there  are  divinities,  gods  and 
heroes." 

But  really,  fellow-Athenians,  I  don't  think  I  need 
make  a  long  speech  in  order  to  show  that  I  am  not 
guilty  of  the  crime  charged  by  Meletus.  I  have  said 
enough  for  that.  But  it  is  only  too  true,  as  I  remarked 
before,  that  I  have  made  many  and  bitter  enemies. 
That  is  what  will  convict  me,  if  I  am  convicted, — not 
Meletus,  nor  Anytus,  but  the  prejudice  and  ill-will  of 
the  multitude.  These  things  have  convicted  many 
another  innocent  man,  and  they  will,  I  dare  say,  continue 
to  do  so :  there  is  no  fear  that  I  shall  be  the  last. 

Possibly  some  one  will  here  interpose:  Are  you  not 
ashamed,  Socrates,  to  have  led  a  life  of  such  a  kind  that 
it  has  brought  you  into  imminent  danger  of  death?  To 
him  I  should  say,  and  my  answer  would  be  just:  You  are 
wrong,  my  friend,  if  you  think  a  man  who  is  good  for 
anything  at  all  ought,  when  he  acts,  to  be  calculating 
his  chances  of  life  and  death,  instead  of  paying  heed  to 
this,  and  this  alone :  Is  he  doing  right  or  wrong,  are  his 
deeds  the  deeds  of  a  good  man  or  of  a  bad  ?  Why,  your 
theory  would  make  worthless  men  of  all  the  heroes  who 
fell  at  Troy,  and  especially  of  Thetis's  son  who  despised 
danger  when  the  alternative  was  disgrace.  For  when 
he  was  bent  on  slaying  Hector  his  goddess  mother  spoke 
to  him  in  words,  I  believe,  something  like  this:  ^'My  son, 
if  you  avenge  the  death  of  your  comrade  Patroclus,  and 
slay  Hector,  you  yourseK  will  die.  For  straightway  after 
Hector's  death,"  said  she,  ''your  doom  awaits  you."  He 
listened  to  her  warning,  and,  scorning  danger  and  death, 
but  greatly  dreading  to  live  a  coward's  life,  with  his 
friend  unavenged,  he  exclaimed:  ''Let  death  come,  but 
let  me  first  punish  the  murderer  of  my  friend,  that  I  may 


122       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

not  remain  here  by  the  beaked  ships  the  scorn  of  men, 
a  mere  cumberer  of  the  earth."  You  don't  suppose  he 
had  any  anxiety  about  danger  and  death?  And,  fellow- 
Athenians,  this  is  just  as  it  should  be.  In  whatever 
post  a  man  finds  himself,  whether  he  has  chosen  it, 
thinking  it  the  best,  or  whether  he  has  been  placed 
there  by  his  superior,  there  he  ought,  I  am  sure,  to  re- 
main, whatever  the  risks,  taking  no  thought  of  death, 
or  of  anything  else  save  disgrace. 

Fellow-Athenians,  when  the  generals  whom  you  had 
chosen  to  place  over  me  assigned  me  my  post  at  Potidsea, 
at  Amphipolis,  and  at  Delium,  I  remained  where  they 
had  put  me,  facing  death  like  any  other  man.  Strange 
indeed  then  would  be  my  conduct  if,  through  fear  of 
death  or  of  anything  else,  I  were  now  to  desert  the  post 
where  God  has  placed  me,  as  I  am  firmly  persuaded 
that  he  has,  commanding  me  to  spend  my  life  in  the 
search  after  truth  and  in  examining  myseK  and  others. 
Yes,  that  would  indeed  be  strange.  Then  surely  I 
might  with  justice  be  brought  to  trial  on  the  charge  of 
not  believing  in  the  gods,  for  I  should  be  disobeying  the 
oracle  through  fear  of  death,  fancying  myself  wise  when 
I  am  not.  For  to  fear  death  means  simply  to  think 
you  are  wise  when  you  are  not;  for  it  is  equivalent  to 
thinking  you  know  what  you  do  not  know.  No  one 
knows  what  death  is,  whether  it  be  not  the  greatest 
blessing  that  can  befall  a  man.  Yet  men  fear  it  as  if  they 
knew  for  certain  that  it  is  the  greatest  of  evils.  And 
isn't  this  just  ignorance  of  that  disgraceful  sort,  thinking 
we  know  what  we  do  not  know?  Here  too,  friends,  very 
likely  I  differ  from  most  men  in  this,  and  if  I  should 
venture  to  say  that  I  am  wiser  than  another  in  anything 
it  would  be  in  this,  that  having  no  clear  knowledge  of  the 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE   OF   HIMSELF  123 

other  world  I  do  not  delude  myself  into  thinking  that  I 
have.  But  this  I  do  know,  that  to  do  wrong,  and  to  be 
disloyal  to  a  superior — whether  God  or  man — is  base  and 
dishonorable.  And  I  shall  always  fear  and  flee  from 
the  evils  that  I  know  to  be  evils,  rather  than  from  reputed 
evils  which,  for  all  I  know,  may  be  blessings. 

And  so  if  you  should  let  me  go  free  now,  notwithstand- 
ing the  plea  of  Anytus  that  either  you  ought  never  to 
have  brought  me  to  trial  at  all,  or,  having  done  so,  you 
cannot  possibly  do  anything  but  put  me  to  death, 
because,  as  he  tells  you,  if  I  escape  now  your  sons  will 
all  forthwith  practise  what  Socrates  teaches  and  be 
utterly  ruined, — if  you  were  to  say  to  me,  in  view  of  his 
argument:  ' 'Socrates,  this  time  we  shall  not  listen  to 
Anytus.  We  shall  let  you  go  free,  but  on  this  condition, 
that  you  give  up  this  quest  of  yours  and  philosophize 
no  more.  If  you  are  caught  at  it  again  you  shall  die." 
If,  I  say,  you  were  to  let  me  off  on  these  terms,  I  should 
reply:  'Tellow-Athenians,  I  love  you,  I  am  devoted  to 
you;  but  I  shall  obey  God  rather  than  you.  And  while 
breath  and  strength  hold  out  I  shall  never  cease  from 
pursuing  wisdom,  or  from  exhorting  any  one  of  you 
whom  I  may  meet,  speaking  frankly  to  him,  and  saying 
in  my  usual  fashion:  ''My  friend,  as  a  citizen  of  Athens,  a 
city  greatest  and  most  famous  for  its  wisdom  and  power, 
are  you  not  ashamed  to  be  so  greedy  for  wealth  and  name 
and  fame,  so  careless  and  so  thoughtless  about  wisdom 
and  truth  and  the  perfecting  of  your  own  soul?"  And 
if  he  contradicts  me,  and  says  that  he  does  care  about 
these  things,  I  shall  not  take  him  at  his  word  and 
straightway  let  him  go,  but  I  shall  question  him  and 
cross-question  him  and  test  him,  and  if  I  find  that  he  is 
not  virtuous,  but  only  says  that  he  is,  I  shall  rebuke 


124       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

him  for  prizing  least  what  is  of  most  value  and  prizing 
more  what  is  of  less  worth.  This  service  I  shall  render 
to  every  one  I  meet,  young  or  old,  citizen  or  alien,  but 
especially  to  you  citizens,  for  you  are  more  nearly  akin 
to  me.  Be  assured,  this  is  God's  command.  And  I 
hold  that  no  greater  blessing  has  ever  befallen  you  in 
Athens  than  this  my  service  to  God.  For  I  spend  all 
my  time  going  about  among  you,  persuading  you,  old 
and  young  ahke,  not  to  be  so  solicitous  about  your  bodies 
or  your  possessions,  but  first  of  all,  and  most  earnestly, 
to  consider  how  to  make  your  souls  as  perfect  as  possible; 
and  teUing  you  that  wealth  does  not  bring  virtue:  rather, 
virtue  brings  wealth  and  every  other  himian  good, 
private  or  public.  If  then  by  such  teaching  I  corrupt 
the  youth,  these  must  be  pernicious  doctrines.  But  if 
any  one  asserts  that  I  teach  anything  else  than  this  he 
lies.  Wherefore,  Athenians,  either  listen  to  Anytus  or 
do  not,  acquit  me  or  not;  but  rest  assured,  I  shall  never 
alter  my  way  of  life — no,  not  though  many  deaths 
await  me. 

Do  not  interrupt  me,  fellow-Athenians;  stand  by  me 
in  the  request  I  made  that  you  should  listen  patiently 
to  my  words.  For  I  think  that  it  will  be  to  your  ad- 
vantage to  hear  them.  I  hesitate  to  speak,  for  the  fact 
is  what  I  am  going  to  say  is  pretty  sure  to  make  you 
shouting  mad;  but  you  simply  mustn't  let  it  do  so.  If 
you  put  me  to  death,  my  character  being  such  as  I  tell 
you  it  is,  you  may  be  very  sure  that  you  will  do  greater 
harm  to  yourselves  than  to  me.  Neither  Meletus  nor 
Anytus  could  possibly  do  me  any  real  injury;  it  isn't  in 
their  power  to  do  so ;  for  I  take  it  Providence  will  never 
permit  a  bad  man  to  harm  one  better  than  himself. 
Meletus  may  indeed  compass  my  death,  he  may  have  me 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  125^ 

banished  or  deprived  of  my  rights  as  a  citizen.  And 
very  likely  he,  and  other  men  too,  imagine  that  these 
things  are  very  great  evils.  I  do  not.  Nay,  I  hold  that 
it  is  a  much  greater  evil  to  do  what  he  is  doing  now, — 
trying  to  put  a  man  to  death  unjustly. 

So,  fellow-Athenians,  I  am  not  making  the  present 
defence  just  to  save  my  own  life,  as  might  be  supposed. 
Not  at  all.  I  am  doing  so  to  save  you  from  sinning 
against  God  and  rejecting  his  gift  to  you  by  condemning 
me.  For  if  you  kill  me  you  will  not  easily  find  another 
man  who  hke  me  will,  at  God's  bidding,  literally  stick 
to  the  state  like  a  gadfly  to  a  horse, — if  you'll  pardon  a 
rather  ludicrous  comparison.  For  the  state  is  like  a 
huge  horse  of  noble  breed,  but  rather  sluggish  from  his 
very  size,  and  needing  the  gadfly  to  wake  him  up.  And 
I  think  God  has  given  me  to  the  state  to  play  the  part 
of  just  such  a  gadfly,  and  I  keep  lighting  upon  you  any 
and  everywhere,  and  spend  the  hvelong  day  waking  you 
up,  and  persuading  you  and  rebuking  you.  My  friends, 
you  will  not  easily  find  another  man  like  that,  and  if 
you  take  my  advice  you  will  spare  my  life.  However, 
it  is  quite  possible  that  you  are  irritated,  like  drowsy 
men  when  they  are  awakened,  and  that  you  will  listen 
to  Anytus  and  crush  this  gadfly,  lightly  putting  me  to 
death.  Then  you  could  sleep  on  in  peace  for  the  rest 
of  your  days, — unless  God  in  his  care  for  you  were  to 
send  you  another  tormentor.  That  it  is  God  himself 
who  has  given  me  to  the  state  you  can  see  from  this: 
no  mere  human  motive  would  account  for  my  having 
neglected  all  my  own  affairs,  allowing  my  private  interests 
to  go  to  ruin  during  all  these  years,  while  at  the  same 
time  always  looking  after  your  welfare,  going  to  you  all, 
one  by  one,  like  a  father  or  an  elder  brother,  and  urging 


126       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

you  to  pay  heed  to  virtue.  If  I  had  taken  a  fee  for  my 
exhortations  and  made  any  money  out  of  them  my  con- 
duct could  be  accounted  for.  But  now  you  yourselves 
see  that  my  accusers,  though  they  have  accused  me  of 
everything  else  with  such  effrontery,  hadn't  the  face  to 
try  to  show  that  I  ever  either  asked  or  received  any  fee. 
I  offer  you,  I  fancy,  in  my  actual  poverty  an  incon- 
trovertible witness  to  the  truth  of  my  words. 

Well,  very  likely  it  has  the  air  of  inconsistency  to  be 
going  about  in  private  offering  you  my  advice  and 
busying  myself  with  your  affairs,  while  not  venturing  to 
come  forward  in  public  in  your  assemblies  to  give  the 
state  the  benefit  of  my  advice.  The  reason  for  this  you 
have  heard  me  give  over  and  again,  and  in  divers  places : 
a  certain  supernatural  and  divine  sign  comes  to  me, — 
and  it  is  this  that  Meletus  has  caricatured  in  his  indict- 
ment. I  have  had  it  ever  since  I  was  a  child.  It  is  a 
sort  of  voice  that  speaks  to  me,  and  whenever  I  hear  it 
it  always  dissuades  me  from  doing  what  I  was  on  the 
point  of  doing,  but  never  urges  me  on.  This  is  what  for- 
bids my  taking  part  in  public  life;  and  it  does  so  wisely, 
I  think.  For  I  am  very  sure,  fellow-Athenians,  that 
had  I  attempted  to  take  part  in  public  life  I  should  have 
perished  long  ago,  without  doing  any  good  either  to  you 
or  to  myself.  And  don't  be  angry  with  me  for  telling 
the  truth,  but  the  fact  is  that  there  is  no  man  whose  life 
will  be  safe,  here  or  anywhere  else,  if  he  sets  himself 
genuinely  in  opposition  to  the  multitude,  and  tries  to 
prevent  the  many  unjust  and  lawless  deeds  done  in  the 
state.  No,  he  who  would  really  battle  for  the  right  must 
do  so  in  private  and  not  in  public  life  if  he  means  to  live 
even  for  a  short  season. 

I  will  give  you  a  striking  proof  of  this,  not  words  but. 


SDCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  127 

what  has  more  weight  with  you, — deeds.  Listen,  and 
I'll  tell  you  some  of  my  experiences,  that  you  may  be 
convinced  that  I  would  give  way  to  no  man  through  fear 
of  death,  although,  for  not  giving  way,  I  should  have  to 
die  on  the  spot.  The  tale  I  am  going  to  tell  is  common 
enough  and  may  weary  you,  but  it  is  true.  I  never 
held  any  office  in  the  state,  Athenians,  except  that  of 
senator.  And  it  chanced  that  my  tribe,  Antiochus, 
had  the  presidency  at  the  time  when  you  proposed  to 
try  in  a  body,  and  contrary  to  the  law,  as  you  all  after- 
ward realized,  the  ten  generals  who  had  not  rescued 
their  men  after  the  battle  of  Arginusse.  On  that  oc- 
casion I  was  the  only  one  of  the  presidents  who  opposed 
your  illegal  action  and  voted  against  it.  In  spite  of  your 
orators,  who  were  ready  to  arrest  me  and  lay  an  informa- 
tion against  me,  in  spite  of  your  shouts  and  your  threats, 
I  deemed  it  my  duty  to  face  every  risk,  with  the  law  and 
the  right  on  my  side,  rather  than  join  you  in  your 
iniquitous  designs  through  fear  of  imprisonment  and 
death. 

This  happened  while  the  government  was  still  a 
democracy.  And  again,  when  the  oligarchy  was  es- 
tablished, the  Thirty  summoned  me  and  four  others  to 
the  council  chamber  and  ordered  us  to  bring  Leon  the 
Salaminian  from  Salamis  to  be  put  to  death.  You  know 
that  was  a  way  they  had;  they  gave  orders  like  that  to  a 
great  many  other  men  too,  for  they  wanted  to  implicate 
as  many  as  possible  in  their  guilty  deeds.  However, 
there  again  I  showed,  not  by  my  professions  but  by  my 
practice,  that,  if  you'll  pardon  the  slang,  I  didn't  care 
a  fig  for  death;  my  great  and  only  care  was  to  do  nothing 
wrong  or  impious.  Strong  as  was  the  tyranny  of  the 
Thirty,  it  was  not  strong  enough  to  frighten  me  into 


128       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

doing  wrong.  AVhen  we  left  the  council  chamber  the 
four  others  went  over  to  Salamis  and  brought  Leon  back, 
but  I  went  off  home.  No  doubt  I  should  have  lost  my 
life  for  my  disobedience  had  not  the  government  of  the 
Thirty  been  overthrown  soon  afterward.  You  can  have 
plenty  of  witnesses  to  the  truth  of  what  I  say. 

Do  you  imagine  for  a  moment  that  I  should  have 
survived  all  these  years  had  I  taken  part  in  public  affairs 
and,  like  an  honest  man,  always  stood  for  the  right  and, 
as  in  duty  bound,  made  that  my  chief  concern?  Cer- 
tainly not,  fellow-Athenians, — nor  I  nor  any  other  man. 
Throughout  my  whole  life,  whenever  I  have  had  occasion 
to  take  part  in  public  affairs,  you  will  find  me  always 
the  same,  and  the  same  in  private  life  too,  never  swerving 
from  the  path  of  justice  through  complaisance  to  any 
man, — to  any  of  those  whom  my  traducers  call  my 
disciples,  or  to  any  one  else.  The  fact  is,  I  never  was  any 
man's  teacher;  but  if  any  one,  young  or  old,  wants  to 
hear  me  talking,  as  I  pursue  my  mission,  he  is  welcome 
to  do  so.  And  I  do  not  talk  for  a  fee  and  refuse  to  talk 
unless  paid.  I  am  at  the  service  of  rich  and  poor  alike. 
Any  one  may  question  me,  or,  if  he  prefers,  answer  my 
questions,  and  may  listen  to  what  I  say.  And  whether 
he  turns  out  to  be  a  good  citizen  or  otherwise,  I  cannot 
rightly  be  held  responsible,  for  I  have  never  taught  or 
promised  to  teach  any  one  of  them  anything.  And  if 
any  one  says  he  has  ever  learned  or  heard  anything  from 
me  in  private  other  than  what  all  the  rest  of  you  have 
heard  you  may  surely  put  him  down  for  a  liar. 

But,  you  will  ask,  why  is  it  then  that  people  like  to 
spend  so  much  time  in  my  company?  You  have  my 
answer  already,  fellow-Athenians.  I  have  told  you  the 
whole  truth.    They  like  to  hear  me  cross-examining  men 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  129 

who  think  they  are  wise  when  they  are  not.  You  know, 
it  is  rather  amusing.  This  mission,  as  I  say,  has  been 
assigned  to  me  by  God  who  has  made  his  will  known 
through  oracles,  dreams,  and  in  every  other  way  by 
which  the  divine  providence  has  ever  imposed  any  duty 
upon  man.  This  is  the  truth,  Athenians,  and  may 
easily  be  proved.  For  if  I  am  corrupting  some  of  the 
young  men,  and  have  corrupted  others,  surely  some  of 
them  ought  to  come  forward  to-day  as  my  accusers  and 
take  their  revenge,  if,  now  that  they  are  grown  up,  they 
have  discovered  that  I  ever  gave  them  bad  advice  in 
their  youth.  And  if  they  themselves  were  unwilling  to 
do  so,  some  of  their  kinsmen — fathers,  brothers,  or  other 
relatives — ought  now  to  remember  it  and  take  their 
revenge  if  I  had  done  their  kinsmen  any  wrong.  Cer- 
tainly I  see  plenty  of  them  here  in  court.  First  there  is 
Crito,  a  man  of  my  age  and  of  my  own  deme,  and  there 
is  his  son,  Critobulus.  Then  there  is  Lysanias  of  Sphet- 
tus,  and  there  is  his  son,  ^Eschines;  and  there  is  Antiphon, 
too,  the  father  of  Epigenes.  Then  here  are  others  whose 
brothers  have  associated  with  me,  Nicostratus,  son  of 
Theozotides,  and  brother  of  Theodotus — and  Theodotus 
is  dead  so  he  at  least  cannot  bind  his  brother  to  silence. 
And  here  is  Paralus,  son  of  Demodocus,  who  had  a 
brother  Theages ;  and  here  is  Adeimantus,  son  of  Ariston, 
and  there  is  his  brother  Plato ;  and  there  is  ^Eantodorus 
with  his  brother  Apollodorus.  And  I  could  name  many 
others  to  you.  Surely,  during  the  course  of  his  speech, 
Meletus  ought  to  have  produced  one  of  them  as  a  witness 
against  me.  If  he  forgot  it  then,  let  him  do  so  now, — 
I  will  make  way  for  him, — and  let  him  tell  us  if  he  has 
any  such  evidence.  But  you  will  find,  my  friends,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  they  are  all  ready  to  defend  me, — me  the 


130       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

corrupter,  the  man  who  has  worked  evil  to  those  of  their 
own  household,  if  we  are  to  take  the  word  of  Meletus  and 
Anytus.  To  be  sure,  those  who  have  themselves  been 
corrupted  might  have  their  reason  for  supporting  me; 
but  the  uncorrupted,  their  kinsmen  who  are  already 
advanced  in  years — what  reason  have  they  for  defending 
me,  except  the  true  and  just  one :  they  know  Meletus  is  a 
liar  and  that  I  am  speaking  the  truth. 

Well,  gentlemen,  this,  and  possibly  more  of  the  same 
sort,  is  about  all  I  have  to  say  in  my  defence.  Perhaps 
there  is  some  one  among  you  who  will  be  angry  when  he 
recalls  how  he  himself,  when  a  defendant  in  a  case  of  far 
less  importance  than  this,  wept  copiously,  and  begged 
and  implored  the  judges,  bringing  his  children  into 
court  and  a  great  many  others,  kinsmen  and  friends,  to 
arouse  as  much  as  possible  your  feelings  of  compassion; 
and  when  he  finds  that  I  shall  do  none  of  these  things, 
although,  in  all  likelihood,  my  life  is  at  stake.  And 
so,  as  he  thinks  of  this,  he  may  harden  his  heart  against 
me,  and  be  angry  with  me  for  this  very  reason,  and  cast 
his  vote  in  anger.  If  there  is  any  one  of  you  in  this  case 
— I  don't  think  there  should  be,  but  if  there  is,  I  think  I 
might  very  properly  say  to  him:  My  friend,  doubtless 
I  too  have  a  few  kinsmen,  for,  to  borrow  Homer's 
words,  ''I  am  born  not  of  wood  nor  of  stone,  but  of 
woman."  And  so  I  have  kinsmen,  yes,  and  sons,  fellow- 
Athenians — three  of  them.  One  is  already  a  youth,  the 
others  are  mere  boys.  Nevertheless,  I  will  not  bring 
one  of  them  here,  nor  beg  you  for  an  acquittal.  And 
why  not?  Not  because  I  am  stubborn,  nor  because  I 
fail  in  my  respect  for  you,  fellow-Athenians.  Whether 
or  not  I  face  death  with  courage  is  not  the  question  now. 
But  I  think  that  for  me,  at  my  time  of  life  and  with  my 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF   HIMSELF  131 

reputation  for  wisdom,  whether  deserved  or  not,  to  do 
any  of  those  things  would  spell  dishonor  to  me  and  to 
you  and  to  the  whole  state.  Wliatever  the  fact,  it  is  the 
commonly  received  opinion  that  Socrates  is  in  some  way 
superior  to  the  general  run  of  mankind.  It  were  surely 
a  disgrace  if  those  of  you  who  are  held  to  excel  in 
wisdom  or  courage,  or  in  any  other  virtue,  were  to  act 
like  men  whom  I've  often  seen, — men  of  some  reputa- 
tion too, — who  when  brought  to  trial  behaved  in  the 
strangest  manner,  as  if  they  were  convinced  that  it  was 
a  most  terrible  thing  to  die,  and  as  if  they  expected  to 
live  forever  provided  you  did  not  put  them  to  death. 
I  think  such  men  bring  dishonor  to  our  state,  so  that 
any  stranger  would  suppose  that  the  Athenians,  who 
excel  in  virtue,  and  who  are  chosen  by  their  fellow- 
citizens  for  public  offices  and  other  dignities,  are  no 
better  than  women.  Fellow-Athenians,  it  is  not  right  for 
us  who  have  any  reputation  at  all  to  behave  this  way; 
and  if  we  do,  then  you  ought  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  On 
the  other  hand  you  ought  to  make  it  plain  that  you  will 
be  much  more  likely  to  condemn  the  man  who  gets  up 
these  piteous  farces,  thereby  making  the  city  ridiculous, 
than  the  man  who  keeps  calm. 

But,  my  friends,  apart  from  the  question  of  reputation, 
I  think  it  is  not  right  to  implore  a  judge  for  mercy  and 
receive  acquittal  as  a  favor.  It  is  one's  duty  to  en- 
lighten and  convince  him;  for  he  sits  as  judge  to  deter- 
mine what  is  just  and  not  to  curry  favor  with  his  verdicts. 
And  he  has  taken  oath  to  judge  according  to  the  laws, 
and  not  to  favor  those  whom  it  may  please  him  to  favor. 
And  so  it  is  not  right  that  we  should  get  you  in  the  habit 
of  perjuring  yourselves,  or  that  you  should  acquire 
that  habit,  for  there  would  be  no  piety  in  that  either  for 


132       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

you  or  for  me.  Therefore,  fellow-citizens,  do  not  require 
me  to  do,  where  you  are  concerned,  what  I  hold  to  be 
neither  honorable  nor  right  nor  pious,  no,  not  at  any  time, 
and  least  of  all  when  I  am  being  prosecuted  by  Meletus 
on  the  charge  of  impiety.  For  I  should  clearly  be 
teaching  you  to  believe  that  there  are  no  gods  if  I  were 
to  persuade  you  and  were  to  overpower  your  oaths  by 
my  importunings.  In  my  very  defence  I  should  lit- 
erally be  accusing  myself  of  believing  that  there  are  no 
gods.  But  that  is  far  from  being  the  case.  Fellow- 
Athenians,  I  do  believe  in  the  gods,  more  firmly  than 
any  of  my  accusers,  and  to  you  and  to  God  I  commend 
my  cause,  to  be  decided  in  the  way  that  will  prove  best 
for  you  as  well  as  for  me. 

[Socrates  is  found  guilty  by  a  vote  of  281  to  220.  The 
penalty  of  death  has  been  proposed  by  Meletus,  and  it 
is  now  Socrates's  privilege  to  propose  a  counter  penalty.] 

Fellow-Athenians,  I  am  not  greatly  displeased  at  the 
verdict  you  have  brought  in,  and  that  for  many  reasons. 
I  was  quite  prepared  for  this  result.  But  I  am  greatly 
surprised  at  the  way  the  votes  were  divided.  I  had  no 
idea  the  majority  against  me  would  be  so  small;  I  ex- 
pected it  to  be  overwhelming.  But  now  it  seems  that  if 
only  thirty  votes  had  changed  sides  I  should  have  been 
acquitted.  Indeed,  as  it  is,  I  think  that  I  have  escaped 
Meletus.  And  not  only  that;  it  must  be  apparent  to 
all  that  had  Anytus  and  Lycon  not  come  forward  to 
join  him  in  the  accusation  he  would  not  have  obtained 
the  fifth  part  of  your  votes,  and  so  would  have  been  fined 
a  thousand  drachmas. 

So  Meletus  proposes  death  as  the  penalty.    Very  good. 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE   OF   HIMSELF  133 

And  what  shall  I  propose  to  you,  fellow-Athenians,  as  a 
counter  penalty?  Obviously,  what  I  deserve.  And 
what  is  that?  What  penalty  should  I  suffer,  what  fine 
should  I  pay  because  I  didn't  spend  my  life  in  ease; 
because  I  cared  not  for  what  most  men  prize — making 
and  hoarding  money,  military  commands,  speech-making 
in  the  assembly,  public  offices,  and  the  conspiracies  and 
factions  of  our  state,  thinking  myseK  really  too  con- 
scientious a  man  to  go  in  for  such  things  and  live; 
because  I  didn't  enter  upon  a  career  which  would  prevent 
my  doing  any  good  to  you  or  to  myself,  but  adopted  the 
course  that  would  enable  me,  as  I  have  said,  to  do  the 
greatest  possible  service  to  each  of  you  individually,  and 
tried  to  persuade  each  of  you  to  take  thought  for  himself 
and  consider  how  he  could  make  himself  as  good  and  as 
wise  as  possible  before  he  took  thought  for  his  affairs, 
and  in  the  same  way  to  take  thought  for  the  state  itself 
before  concerning  himseK  with  the  state's  affairs,  and  in 
all  cases  to  follow  the  same  order  in  his  solicitudes? 
Whsit  then  do  I  deserve  for  such  a  life?  Something 
good,  fellow-Athenians,  if  I  must  really  fix  the  penalty 
according  to  my  deserts,  and  moreover  a  good  such  as 
would  be  suitable  for  me  to  accept.  What  then  is  a  fit 
recompense  for  a  benefactor  who  is  poor  and  who  requires 
leisure  that  he  may  exhort  you?  Fellow-Athenians, 
there  is  none  that  is  more  fitting  for  a  man  of  that  sort 
than  that  he  be  maintained  in  the  Prytaneum  at  the 
public  expense.  It  is  far  more  suitable  to  give  him  such 
a  reward  than  to  give  it  to  one  of  your  number  who  has 
been  victorious  in  a  horse-race,  or  in  a  two-  or  four-horse 
chariot-race,  at  the  Olympic  games.  He  gives  you  the 
appearance  of  happiness ;  I  give  you  the  reality.  Besides, 
he  is  not  in  want;  I  am.    And  so  if  I  must  propose  the 


13$       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

penalty  which  I  justly  deserve  I  should  propose  this: 
maintenance  in  the  Prytaneum  at  the  pubhc  expense. 

Well,  very  likely  you  will  think  that  I  am  saying  this 
from  sheer  obstinacy,  interpreting  this  pretty  much  as 
you  did  what  I  said  about  wailing  and  begging  for  mercy. 
But  such  is  not  the  fact,  Athenians.  The  truth  rather 
is  that  I  speak  as  I  do  because  I  am  convinced  that  I 
never  wronged  any  man  intentionally,  though  I  cannot 
convince  you  of  that.  We  have  had  too  short  a  time  to 
discuss  the  matter.  If  it  were  the  law  here,  as  it  is  in 
other  lands,  that  in  a  case  where  the  penalty  is  death 
the  trial  must  continue  for  several  days,  and  not  one 
only,  I  might  have  convinced  you.  As  it  is,  it  is  not  easy 
to  do  away  with  formidable  calumnies  all  in  a  moment. 
I  am  firmly  convinced  that  I  never  wronged  any  man, 
and  I  certainly  shall  not  wrong  myself.  And  I  shall  not 
accuse  myself  of  deserving  any  evil,  nor  shall  I  propose 
anything  of  the  sort  for  myseK  as  a  penalty.  Whsit  fear 
could  drive  me  to  that?  Fear  lest  I  suffer  the  penalty 
Meletus  proposes,  when,  as  I  say,  I  do  not  know  whether 
it  be  a  good  or  an  evil?  Would  you  have  me  propose 
instead  things  which  I  know  to  be  evils?  What  penalty 
shall  I  propose?  Imprisonment?  And  why  should  I 
spend  my  life  in  prison,  a  slave  to  the  Elevens  successively 
appointed  as  jailers?  Or  shall  it  be  a  fine,  with  im- 
prisonment until  it  is  paid?  But  for  me  that  would  be 
equivalent  to  life  imprisonment.  For  I  have  no  money 
to  pay  a  fine  with.  Or  shall  it  be  exile?  Perhaps  you 
would  agree  to  that  punishment.  I  must  indeed  be 
madly  in  love  with  life  if  I  am  so  lost  to  reason  as  not 
to  be  able  to  reflect  that,  if  you  who  are  my  fellow-citizens 
were  unable  to  tolerate  my  discussions  and  my  arguments, 
and  have  found  them  so  troublesome  and  so  odious  that 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE   OF   HIMSELF  135 

you  are  now  seeking  to  be  quit  of  them,  strangers  will 
scarcely  find  it  easy  to  bear  with  me.  Far  from  it, 
Athenians,  a  fine  life  it  would  be  for  an  old  man  like  me 
to  leave  my  native  town  and  pass  my  days  in  wandering 
from  city  to  city,  always  being  driven  out.  For  I  am 
sure  that  wherever  I  go  the  young  men  will  listen  to 
my  arguments,  just  as  they  do  here.  And  if  I  drive  them 
away  they  will  persuade  their  elders  to  drive  me  away. 
If  I  do  not  drive  them  away,  their  fathers  and  kinsmen 
will  expel  me  for  their  sakes. 

But  perhaps  some  one  may  say:  Socrates,  when  you 
quit  us,  won't  it  be  possible  for  you  to  refrain  from  talking 
and  to  hold  your  peace?  This  is  just  the  point  that  it 
is  most  difficult  to  make  you  understand,  for  if  I  say  that 
that  means  to  disobey  God,  and  that  therefore  I  cannot 
hold  my  peace,  you  will  not  beUeve  me,  you  will  say  that 
I  am  not  speaking  candidly.  If  on  the  other  hand  I  tell 
you  that  it  is  also  the  very  best  thing  a  man  can  do,  to 
be  applying  his  reason  every  day  to  the  question  of  virtue 
and  to  the  other  matters  you  hear  me  conversing  about, 
as  I  examine  myself  and  others;  and  if  I  add  that  the 
imexamined  fife  is  not  worthy  to  be  lived  by  man, — you 
are  still  less  likely  to  believe  me.  I  am  but  telHng  you 
the  truth,  friends,  though  it  is  not  easy  for  me  to  persuade 
you.  For  the  rest,  I  have  not  been  accustomed  to  think 
myself  deserving  of  any  evil.  If  I  had  money  I  should 
have  proposed  a  fine  as  large  as  I  could  pay.  That 
would  not  have  hurt  me  any.  As  it  is,  I  haven't  the 
money  for  that,  unless  you  are  willing  to  impose  a  fine 
within  the  possibility  of  my  slender  means.  Very  likely 
I  could  pay  a  mina  of  silver.  AVell,  I  propose  that. — 
Fellow-Athenians,  Plato  here,  and  Crito,  and  Critobulus, 
bid  me  make  it  thirty  minse  and  offer  to  be  my  sureties. 


136       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

So  I  propose  that  amount.     You  will  have  in  them 
ample  security  for  the  money. 

[Socrates's  half-ironical  proposition  is  not  accepted 
and  the  penalty  of  death  is  imposed.  Socrates  con- 
tinues :] 

You  have  not  gained  much  time,  fellow-Athenians, 
and  the  price  you  will  pay  is  the  evil  name  which  those 
who  wish  to  abuse  our  city  will  give  you.  They  will 
blame  you  for  having  put  to  death  Socrates,  a  wise  man. 
For  those  who  will  want  to  reproach  you  will  say  that  I 
am  wise  even  though  I  am  not.  If  you  had  had  patience 
to  wait  for  a  little  while  you  would  have  gained  your 
end  in  the  course  of  nature.  For  as  you  see  I  am  already 
far  advanced  in  years,  and  near  to  death.  I  say  this 
not  to  all  of  you,  but  only  to  those  who  voted  for  my 
death.  And  I  have  something  else  to  say  to  them.  You 
may  perhaps  think,  gentlemen,  that  I  have  been  con- 
victed because  I  w^as  lacking  in  the  kind  of  arguments 
necessary  to  persuade  you, — that  is,  if  I  had  thought  it 
right  to  leave  nothing  unsaid  or  imdone  in  order  to 
escape  punishment.  Far  from  it.  I  have  been  con- 
victed because  I  was  lacking,  not  in  argument,  but  in 
effrontery  and  shamelessness,  and  because  I  was  un- 
willing to  speak  to  you  as  you  would  have  liked  to  have 
me  speak,  weeping  and  lamenting,  and  doing  and  saying 
many  other  things  the  like  of  which  you  have  been  wont 
to  hear  from  other  men,  but  which,  as  I  have  said,  are 
unworthy  of  me.  When  I  was  making  my  defence  I 
thought  I  ought  not  to  do  anything  unworthy  of  a  free- 
man just  because  I  was  in  danger,  and  I  have  no  mis- 
givings now  over  the  manner  of  my  defence.    No,  I 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE   OF   HIMSELF  137 

would  far  rather  defend  myself  as  I  did,  and  die,  than 
owe  my  life  to  a  craven  defence.  For  it  is  wrong  for 
me,  and  for  any  one  else,  either  in  a  lawsuit  or  in  battle, 
to  resort  to  every  possible  device  in  order  to  escape  death. 
In  battle  it  is  often  plain  that  a  man  may  at  least  save  his 
life  by  throwing  down  his  arms  and  imploring  quarter 
of  his  pursuers.  And  in  other  kinds  of  danger  there 
are  plenty  of  devices  whereby  a  man  may  save  his  life, 
if  he  has  the  audacity  to  say  and  do  any  and  everything. 
But,  my  friends,  I  suspect  the  difficulty  is,  not  to  escape 
death,  but  rather  to  escape  wickedness.  For  wickedness 
runs  swifter  than  death,  and  now  I  who  am  old  and 
slow  have  been  caught  by  the  slower  runner,  while  my 
accusers  who  are  clever  and  swift  have  been  caught  by 
the  faster  runner,  which  is  wickedness.  And  now  I 
depart  having  been  condemned  to  death  by  you.  They, 
too,  depart  condemned  by  truth  to  pay  the  penalty  of 
depravity  and  unrighteousness.  I  abide  by  my  punish- 
ment; let  them  abide  by  theirs.  I  suppose  these  things 
are  destined  so  to  be;  and  I  think  that  it  is  all  for  the  best. 
And  now  I  want  to  prophesy  the  future  to  you  who 
have  condemned  me.  For  I  am  about  to  die,  and  that 
is  the  time  when  men  are  most  gifted  with  prophetic 
power.  I  say  to  you,  you  who  have  condemned  me  to 
death,  that  the  moment  I  am  gone  punishment  will 
overtake  you,  yes,  by  heaven,  a  punishment  far  more 
severe  than  the  penalty  of  death  which  you  have  in- 
flicted upon  me.  You  have  now  done  this  thing  in  the 
belief  that  you  are  going  to  be  free  from  the  necessity  of 
giving  an  account  of  your  lives.  I  assure  you  that  the 
result  will  be  quite  to  the  contrary.  There  will  be  many 
more  to  call  you  to  account,  men  whom  I  have  thus  far 
been  holding  in  check  though  you  didn't  perceive  it. 


138       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

And  they  are  younger,  and  will  be  so  much  the  harder 
upon  you,  and  you  will  be  so  much  the  more  angry  with 
them.  For  you  are  much  mistaken  if  you  think  that 
by  putting  men  to  death  you  can  keep  people  from 
reproaching  you  for  your  evil  lives.  That  way  of 
escape  is  certainly  not  possible,  nor  is  it  honorable. 
The  way  that  is  at  once  easiest  and  most  honorable  is, 
not  to  be  silencing  the  reproaches  of  others,  but  to 
be  making  yourselves  as  perfect  as  you  can.  With 
this  prophecy,  then,  I  take  my  leave  of  you  who  have 
condemned  me. 

But  with  you  who  have  voted  to  acquit  me  I  would 
gladly  converse  about  this  thing  that  has  happened, 
while  the  officers  are  busy,  and  before  I  go  where  I  must 
go  to  die.  Pray  stay  that  long  with  me,  my  friends,  for 
there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  not  talk  together  about 
our  beliefs  while  we  may.  I  want  to  explain  to  you  who 
are  my  friends  the  meaning  of  what  has  just  befallen  me. 
For  a  very  strange  thing  has  happened  to  me,  my  judges 
— for  I  am  surely  right  in  addressing  you  as  judges, — my 
familiar  prophetic  voice,  the  divine  sign,  has  up  to  the 
present  time  always  been  in  the  habit  of  opposing  me 
even  in  most  trifling  matters,  when  I  was  on  the  point  of 
acting  wrongly.  But  now  you  yourselves  see  what  has 
just  happened  to  me,  a  thing  which  one  might  think, 
which  is  generally  considered,  the  greatest  possible  evil. 
But  the  divine  sign  did  not  oppose  me  as  I  was  leaving 
my  house  this  morning,  nor  as  I  was  mounting  the  plat- 
form here  in  court,  nor  did  it  oppose  me  once  in  my 
speech  in  what  I  was  about  to  say.  Yet  often  on  other 
occasions  it  has  stopped  me  right  in  the  middle  of  a 
speech.  But  now,  in  this  affair,  it  has  not  opposed  a 
single  word  or  deed  of  mine.     What  do  I  take  to  be  the 


SOCRATES'S   DEFENCE  OF  HIMSELF  139 

meaning  of  this?  I  will  tell  you.  This  thing  that  has 
happened  to  me  must  be  a  blessing,  and  we  who  think 
that  death  is  an  evil  are  surely  mistaken  in  our  belief. 
I  have  received  striking  evidence  of  this,  for  it  is  im- 
possible that  the  divine  sign  should  not  have  opposed 
me,  unless  indeed  I  am  going  to  fare  well. 

Again,  look  at  the  matter  in  this  light  too,  and  we 
discover  high  hopes  for  beheving  that  death  is  a  blessing. 
There  are  just  two  alternatives  with  regard  to  death: 
either  the  dead  man  has  lost  all  power  of  perception,  and 
wholly  ceased  to  be;  or  else,  as  tradition  has  it,  the  soul 
at  death  changes  its  habitation,  moving  from  its  home 
here  to  its  home  yonder.  And  if  there  is  no  perception 
at  all,  and  death  is  like  a  sound  sleep  unbroken  even  by  a 
dream,  then  it  is  a  wonderful  gain.  For  I  think  if  one 
were  called  upon  to  select  the  night  in  which  he  slept  so 
soundly  that  he  did  not  even  dream,  and  to  compare  all 
the  other  days  and  nights  of  his  life  with  that  night,  and 
to  declare  after  careful  consideration  how  many  days  and 
nights  of  his  life  he  had  passed  better  or  more  agreeable 
than  that  night,  I  think  that  no  one,  whether  private 
citizen  or  even  the  great  king  himself,  would  find  them 
very  easy  to  count  in  comparison  with  all  the  rest.  If 
then  that  is  what  death  is  like  I  for  one  say  it  is  a  gain, 
for  in  that  case  all  eternity  is  but  a  single  night.  If  on 
the  other  hand  death  is  a  journey  to  another  world,  and 
if  the  traditional  belief  is  true  that  all  the  dead  are 
there,  what  blessing  could  be  greater  than  this,  0  my 
judges?  If,  on  arriving  in  the  under  world,  one  is  free 
from  these  pretended  judges  here,  and  finds  the  true 
judges  who  are  said  to  sit  in  judgment  there,  Minos  and 
Rhadamanthus  and  ^acus  and  Triptolemus,  and  all  the 
other   demigods   who   in  life   were   themselves  just — 


140       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

wouldn't  that  be  a  journey  worth  taking!  Again,  to 
associate  with  Orpheus  and  Musseus  and  Hesiod — what 
would  you  not  give  for  that  privilege !  For  my  part  I  am 
ready  to  die  over  and  over  again  if  these  beliefs  are  true; 
for  I  should  find  wondrous  pleasure  in  the  life  over  there, 
meeting  with  Palamedes  and  Ajax,  the  son  of  Telamon, 
or  any  of  the  other  men  of  old  who  met  their  death 
through  an  unjust  judgment.  It  would  be  no  small 
pleasure,  I  take  it,  to  compare  my  own  experiences  with 
theirs.  And,  best  of  all,  I  could  spend  my  time  ex- 
amining and  questioning  the  men  over  there,  as  I  do  the 
men  here  on  earth,  finding  out  which  of  them  are  wise, 
and  which  of  them  thinks  himself  wise  when  he  is  not. 
What  would  one  not  give,  0  my  judges,  to  examine  him 
who  led  the  great  expedition  against  Troy,  or  Odysseus 
or  Sisyphus  or  countless  other  men  and  women  who 
might  be  named?  What  inconceivable  happiness  to  be 
with  them,  to  converse  with  them,  and  examine  them! 
One  thing  at  least  is  certain:  they  do  not  put  a  man  to 
death  over  there  for  asking  questions.  For  the  men  of 
that  world,  besides  being  happier  than  we  are  in  all  other 
respects,  are  once  and  for  all  immortal,  if  the  tales  that 
are  told  are  true.  You  too,  my  judges,  are  to  face  death 
full  of  hope.  You  ought  to  meditate  on  this  truth:  no 
evil  can  possibly  befall  a  good  man,  in  this  life  or  after 
death.  His  interests  are  not  neglected  by  the  gods. 
And  it  is  no  mere  chance  that  has  brought  him  to  this 
pass.  No,  I  see  clearly,  that  it  is  better  for  me  to  die 
now  and  be  released  from  trouble.  That  is  why  the 
oracle  did  not  once  turn  me  back;  that  is  why  I  am  not 
at  all  angry  with  these  men  who  have  condemned  me,  or 
with  my  accusers.  To  be  sure  it  was  not  with  this  in 
mind  that  they  condemned  me,  or  brought  the  accusa- 


SOCRATES'S  DEFENCE  OF  HIMSELF  141 

tion  against  me,  but  because  they  thought  to  do  me  harm. 
For  that  indeed  I  may  fairly  blame  them. 

However,  I  have  this  request  to  make  of  them.  When 
my  sons  grow  up  take  your  revenge  on  them,  gentlemen ; 
plague  them  just  as  I  have  plagued  you,  if  you  find  them 
setting  their  hearts  on  riches,  or  on  anything  else  more 
than  on  virtue.  If  they  think  they  are  something  when 
in  reality  they  are  nothing,  reproach  them,  as  I  have 
reproached  you,  for  not  caring  for  the  things  they  ought 
to  care  for  and  for  thinking  they  are  worth  something 
when  they  are  worth  nothing  at  all.  If  you  do  this  I 
shall  have  received  justice  at  your  hands,  I  and  my 
sons,  too. 

But  the  time  has  come  for  us  to  depart — I  to  die,  you 
to  live.  Which  of  us  is  going  to  the  better  lot  God 
alone  clearly  knows. 


XI 

THE  LESSER  SOCRATICS 
ARISTIPPUS—THE  CYRENAICS 

The^  Cyrenaics  said  that  the  feelings  were  the  criteria 
of  truth,  that  they  alone  could  be  apprehended  and 
were  not  misleading.  On  the  other  hand  the  causes  of 
the  feelings,  one  and  all,  are  incomprehensible  and  the 
source  of  false  opinion.  For  whenever  we  experience  a 
white  color  or  a  sweet  taste  we  can  speak  without  fear 
of  being  misled  or  refuted;  but  what  it  is  that  causes 
the  feeling  white  or  sweet,  that  we  cannot  tell. 

*  * 

It  is  2  not  the  man  who  abstains  who  is  pleasure's 

master,  but  rather  the  man  who  enjoys  pleasure  without 
being  completely  carried  off  his  feet.  Just  as  in  the  case 
of  a  ship  or  a  horse  one  does  not  show  one's  mastery  by 
refraining  from  use,  but  by  knowing  how  to  direct  them 

whithersoever  he  will.  * 

*  * 

But  2  Aristippus  was  a  man  very  quick  at  adapting 
himself  to  every  kind  of  place,  and  time,  and  person,  and 
he  easily  supported  every  change  of  fortune.  For  which 
reason  he  was  in  greater  favor  with  Dionysius  than  any 
of  the  others,  as  he  always  made  the  best  of  existing 
circumstances.     For  he  enjoyed  what  was  before  him 

1  Sext.  Emp.  Math.  Adv.  VII.  191. 

2  Aristippus  ap.  Stob.  Florileg.  17,  18. 

'  From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  with  a  few  minor 
changes,  p.  81. 

142 


THE  LESSER  SOCRATICS  143 

pleasantly,  and  he  did  not  toil  to  procure  himself  the 
enjoyment  of  what  was  not  present.  On  which  account 
Diogenes  used  to  call  him  the  king's  dog.  And  Timon 
used  to  snarl  at  him  as  too  luxurious,  speaking  somewhat 
in  this  fashion : 

Like  the  effeminate  mind  of  Aristippus, 

Who,  as  he  said,  by  touch  could  judge  of  falsehood. 

* 
*  * 

These  ^  men  then  who  continued  in  the  school  of 
Aristippus,  and  were  called  Cyrenaics,  adopted  the 
following  opinions:  They  said  that  there  were  two 
emotions  of  the  mind,  pleasure  and  pain;  that  the  one, 
namely  pleasure,  was  a  moderate  emotion;  the  other, 
namely  pain,  a  rough  one.  And  that  no  one  pleasure  was 
different  from  or  more  pleasant  than  another;  and  that 
pleasure  was  praised  by  all  living  things,  pain  avoided. 
They  said  also  that  pleasure  belonged  to  the  body,  and 
constituted  its  chief  good;  ....  but  the  pleasure 
which  they  call  the  chief  good  is  not  that  pleasure  as  a 
state  which  consists  in  the  absence  of  all  pain  and  is  a 
sort  of  undisturbedness,  which  is  w^hat  Epicurus  admits 
as  such;  for  the  Cyrenaics  think  that  there  is  a  distinction 
between  the  chief  good  and  a  life  of  happiness,  for  that 
the  chief  good  is  a  particular  pleasure,  but  that  happi- 
ness is  a  state  consisting  of  a  number  of  particular  pleas- 
ures, among  which  both  those  which  are  past  and  those 
which  are  future  are  enumerated.  And  they  consider 
that  the  particular  pleasure  is  desirable  for  its  own 
sake;  but  that  happiness  is  desirable  not  for  its  own  sake, 
but  for  that  of  the  particular  pleasure.  And  that  the 
proof  that  pleasure  is  the  chief  good  is  that  we  are  from 

*  From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  pp.  89-9L 


144       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

our  childhood  attracted  to  it  without  any  dehberate 
choice  of  our  own;  and  that  when  we  have  obtained  it, 
we  do  not  seek  anything  further,  and  also  that  there  is 
nothing  which  we  avoid  so  much  as  we  do  its  opposite, 
which  is  pain.  And  they  assert,  too,  that  pleasure  is  a 
good,  even  if  it  arises  from  the  most  unbecoming  causes ; 
....  for  even  if  an  action  be  ever  so  absurd,  still  the 
pleasure  which  arises  out  of  it  is  desirable,  and  a  good. 
Moreover,  the  banishment  of  pain,  as  it  is  called  by 
Epicurus,  appears  to  the  Cyrenaics  not  to  be  pleas- 
ure; neither  is  the  absence  of  pleasure  pain,  for  both 
pleasure  and  pain  consist  in  motion;  and  neither  the 
absence  of  pleasure  nor  the  absence  of  pain  is  motion. 
In  fact,  absence  of  pain  is  a  condition  like  that  of  a 
person  asleep.  They  say  also  that  it  is  possible  that 
some  persons  may  not  desire  pleasure,  owing  to  some 
perversity  of  mind.  They  hold  that  the  pleasures  and 
pains  of  the  mind  do  not  all  originate  in  pleasures  and 
pains  of  the  body,  for  pleasure  often  arises  from  the  mere 
fact  of  the  prosperity  of  one's  country,  or  from  one's 
own ;  but  they  deny  that  pleasure  is  caused  by  either  the 
recollection  or  the  anticipation  of  good  fortune — though 
Epicurus  asserted  that  it  was — for  the  motion  of  the  mind 
is  put  an  end  to  by  time.  They  say,  too,  that  pleasure 
is  not  caused  by  simple  seeing  or  hearing.  Accordingly 
we  listen  with  pleasure  to  those  who  give  a  representation 
of  lamentations;  but  we  are  pained  when  we  see  men 
lamenting  in  reality.  And  they  called  the  absence  of 
pleasure  and  of  pain  intermediate  states;  and  asserted 
that  corporeal  pleasures  were  superior  to  mental  ones, 
and  corporeal  sufferings  worse  than  mental  ones.  And 
they  argued  that  it  was  on  this  principle  that  offenders 
were  punished  with  bodily  pain;  for  they  thought  that 


THE  LESSER  SOCRATICS  145 

to  suffer  pain  was  hard,  but  that  to  be  pleased  was 
more  in  harmony  with  the  nature  of  man,  on  which 
account  also  they  took  more  care  of  the  body  than  of 
the  mind. 

And  although  pleasure  is  desirable  for  its  own  sake, 
still  they  admit  that  some  of  the  efficient  causes  of  it  are 
often  troublesome,  and  as  such  opposite  to  pleasure;  so 
that  they  think  that  an  assemblage  of  all  the  pleasures 
which  produce  happiness  is  the  most  difficult  thing 
conceivable.  .  .  .  They  left  out  all  investigation  of  the 
subjects  of  natural  philosophy,  because  of  the  evident 
impossibility  of  comprehending  them;  but  they  appHed 
themselves  to  the  study  of  logic,  because  of  its  utihty. 
.  .  .  They  also  taught  that  there  was  nothing  naturally 
and  intrinsically  just,  or  honorable,  or  disgraceful;  but 
that  things  were  considered  so  because  of  law  and  fashion. 
The  good  man  will  do  nothing  out  of  the  way,  because  of 
the  punishments  which  are  imposed  on,  and  the  dis- 
credit which  is  attached  to,  such  actions:  and  that  the 
good  man  is  a  wise  man. 


THE  CYNICS—ANTISTHENES  AND  DIOGENES 

Originally  ^  he  [Antisthenes]  was  a  pupil  of  Gorgias  the 
rhetorician.  .  .  .  Afterward,  he  attached  himseK  to 
Socrates,  and  made  such  progress  in  philosophy  while 
with  hirq,  that  he  advised  all  his  own  pupils  to  become 
his  fellow-pupils  in  the  school  of  Socrates.  And  as  he 
lived  in  the  Piraeus  he  went  up  forty  furlongs  to  the 
city  every  day  in  order  to  hear  Socrates,  from  whom  he 
learnt  the  art  of  enduring,  and  of  being  indifferent  to 

» From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  p.  217. 


146       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

external    circumstances,    and   so   became   the   original 
founder  of  the  Cynic  school. 

And  he  used  to  argue  that  labor  was  a  good  thing,  by 
adducing  the  examples  of  the  great  Hercules,  and  of 
Cyrus.  .  .  .  And  he  used  continually  to  say,  ''I  would 
rather  go  mad  than  feel  pleasure." 

*  * 

And  ®  the  doctrines  he  adopted  were  these:  He  used 
to  insist  that  virtue  was  a  thing  which  might  be  taught; 
also,  that  the  nobly  born  and  virtuously  disposed  were 
the  same  people;  for  that  virtue  was  of  itself  sufficient 
for  happiness,  and  was  in  need  of  nothing,  except  the 
strength  of  Socrates.  He  also  looked  upon  virtue  as  a 
species  of  work,  not  wanting  many  arguments,  or  much 
instruction;  and  he  taught  that  the  wise  man  was 
sufficient  for  himself;  for  that  everything  that  belonged 
to  any  one  else  belonged  to  him.  He  considered  ob- 
scurity of  fame  a  good  thing,  and  equally  good  with 
labor.  And  he  used  to  say  that  the  wise  man  would 
regulate  his  conduct  as  a  citizen,  not  according  to  the 
established  laws  of  the  state,  but  according  to  the  law 
of  virtue. 

Diodes  also  attributes  the  following  apophthegms  to 
him:  To  the  wise  man,  nothing  is  strange  and  nothing 
remote.  The  virtuous  man  is  worthy  to  be  loved. 
Good  men  are  friends.  It  is  right  to  make  the  brave 
and  just  one's  allies.  Virtue  is  a  weapon  of  which  a 
man  cannot  be  deprived.  It  is  better  to  fight  with  a 
few  good  men  against  all  the  wicked,  than  with  many 
wicked  men  against  a  few  good  men.  One  should  attend 
to  one's  enemies,  for  they  are  the  first  persons  to  detect 
one's  errors.     One  should  consider  a  just  man  as  of  more 

♦  From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  pp.  220-221. 


THE  LESSER  SOCRATICS  147 

value  than  a  relation.  Virtue  is  the  same  in  a  man  as 
in  a  woman.  What  is  good  is  honorable,  and  what  is 
bad  is  disgraceful.  Think  everything  that  is  wicked, 
foreign.  Prudence  is  the  safest  fortification;  for  it  can 
neither  fall  to  pieces  nor  be  betrayed.  One  must  prepare 
one's  self  a  fortress  in  one's  own  impregnable  thoughts. 

*** 
The  ^  Cynics  were  for  doing  away  with  the  whole 
system  of  logic  and  natural  philosophy  .  .  .  and  held 
that  one  should  devote  one's  seK  solely  to  the  study  of 
ethics.  .  .  .  They  would  discard  all  liberal  studies.  .  .  . 
Their  doctrine  is  that  the  chief  good  of  man  consists  in 
living  according  to  virtue.  .  .  .  They  also  teach  that  men 
ought  to  lead  the  simple  life,  eating  only  plain  food,  and 
that  in  moderation,  wearing  nothing  but  a  cloak,  and 
showing  contempt  for  wealth  and  fame  and  noble  birth. 

Diogenes^  used  to  say  that  there  are  two  kinds  of 
training,  that  of  the  mind  and  that  of  the  body  .  .  .  and 
that  neither  is  complete  without  the  other.  And  he 
said  that  training  gives  power  to  overcome  every  obsta- 
cle, and  that  everjrwhere  in  life  training  is  the  condition 
of  success.  ...  He  held  that  those  who  gave  up  useless 
labor  and  confined  themselves  to  the  tasks  that  nature 
enjoined,  could  not  fail  to  live  happily.  It  is  our  folly 
alone  that  makes  us  unhappy.  For  the  very  contempt 
of  pleasure,  when  one  has  grown  accustomed  to  it,  is 
itself  a  source  of  great  pleasure.  And  just  as  those  who 
are  accustomed  to  a  life  of  luxury  are  brought  very 
unwillingly  to  adopt  the  simple  life,  so  those  who  have 
been  trained  in  the  latter  take  pleasure  in  their  very 
scorn  of  pleasure. 

7  Diog.  Laert.  VI.  103.  « lb.  VI.  70. 


XII 
PLATO 

[427-347  B.C.] 

PREDECESSORS, 

After  1  the  philosophers  we  have  described  ^  appeared 
the  philosophical  system  of  Plato  which  agreed  with 
their  views  in  many  points,  but  had  its  own  peculiar 
tenets  which  distinguished  it  from  the  philosophy  of 
the  ItaUc  school.  For  from  his  youth  up  Plato  had  been 
familiar  with  Cratylus  and  with  the  opinions  of  the 
Heraclitean  school — that  all  things  of  sense  are  in 
perpetual  flux  and  that  no  real  knowledge  of  them  is 
possible.  These  views  Plato  held  in  later  life  as  well. 
But  while  Socrates  was  occupying  himself  with  ethical 
investigations,  and  not  at  all  with  nature  as  a  whole, 
and  yet  in  these  investigations  was  in  search  of  the 
general  law  and  was  the  first  to  direct  his  attention  to 
the  task  of  definition, — Plato  accepted  this  view  too, 
but  drew  the  conclusion  that  the  definition  had  for  its 
object  something  distinct  from  the  objects  of  sense,  for 
it  was  impossible  that  there  should  be  a  common  defini- 
tion of  any  one  of  the  objects  of  sense,  since  these  are 
continually  changing.  And  such  realities  he  called  ideas; 
but  he  held  that  the  objects  of  sense  existed  over  and 
above  ideas  and  were  all  named  after  them ;  for  the  many 
things  that  are  called  by  the  same  name  with  the  ideas 
exist  only  through  ' 'participation"  in  them.     This  ex- 

»  Arist.  Met.  I.  6,  987  a  29.  '  I.  e.,  the  Pythagoreans- 

148 


PLATO  149 

pression  "participation"  is  but  a  new  name  for  an  older 
view,  for  the  Pythagoreans  declared  that  things  that  are 
exist  through  ^'imitation"  of  numbers;  Plato,  changing 
the  name,  says  it  is  through  participation.  But  ex- 
actly what  is  the  nature  of  this  participation  or  of  this 
imitation  they  have  alike  failed  to  explain.  Further- 
more Plato  holds  that  over  and  above  the  objects  of 
sense  and  the  ideas  exist  the  objects  with  which  mathe- 
matics deals,  occupying  an  intermediate  position,  differing 
from  the  objects  of  sense  in  being  eternal  and  immovable, 
and  differing  on  the  other  hand  from  the  ideas  in  that 
there  are  many  fac-similes  of  each,  whereas  every  self- 
existent  idea  is  one  and  one  only. 

From  the  Phcedrus^ 

DIALECrriC   VERSUS    RHETORIC 

Socrates. — But  let  me  ask  you,  friend:  have  we  not 
reached  the  plane-tree  to  which  you  were  conducting  us  ? 

Phcedrus. — Yes,  this  is  the  tree. 

Soc. — By  Here,  a  fair  resting-place,  full  of  summer 
sounds  and  scents.  Here  is  this  lofty  and  spreading 
plane-tree,  and  the  agnus  castus  high  and  clustering, 
in  the  fulle^.t  blossom  and  the  greatest  fragrance;  and 
the  strean.  which  flows  beneath  the  plane-tree  is  deli- 
ciously  cold  to  the  feet.  Judging  from  the  ornaments 
and  images,  this  must  be  a  spot  sacred  to  Achelous  and 
the  Nymphs.  How  delightful  is  the  breeze: — so  very 
sweet;  and  there  is  a  sound  in  the  air  shrill  and  summer- 
like which  makes  answer  to  the  chorus  of  the  cicada?. 
But  the  greatest  charm  of  all  is  the  grass,  like  a  pillow 
gently  sloping  to  the  head.  My  dear  Phsedrus,  you  have 
been  an  admirable  guide. 

'  From  Plato's  Phcedrus,  Jowett's  translation,  beginning  p.  230  A. 


150       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Phoedr. — What  an  incomprehensible  being  you  are, 
Socrates:  when  you  are  in  the  country,  as  you  say,  you 
really  are  like  some  stranger  who  is  led  about  by  a  guide. 
Do  you  ever  cross  the  border?  I  rather  think  that  you 
never  venture  even  outside  the  gates. 

Soc. — Very  true,  my  good  friend;  and  I  hope  that  you 
will  excuse  me  when  you  hear  the  reason,  which  is,  that 
I  am  a  lover  of  knowledge,  and  the  men  who  dwell  in  the 
city  are  my  teachers,  and  not  the  trees  or  the  country. 
Though  I  do  indeed  believe  that  you  have  found  a  spell 
with  which  to  draw  me  out  of  the  city  into  the  country, 
like  a  hungry  cow  before  whom  a  bough  or  bunch  of 
fruit  is  waved.  For  only  hold  up  before  me  in  like 
manner  a  book,  and  you  may  lead  me  all  round  Attica, 
and  over  the  wide  world.  And  now  having  arrived,  I 
intend  to  lie  down,  and  do  you  choose  any  posture  in 
which  you  can  read  best. 

[Referring  to  the  love-myth  which  he  had  unfolded 
in  the  Phaedrus  Socrates  comments  as  follows :]  ^ 

The  composition  was  mostly  playful.  Yet  in  these 
chance  fancies  of  the  hour  were  involved  tT\o  principles 
of  which  we  should  be  too  glad  to  have  a  clearer  de- 
scription if  art  could  give  us  one. 

Phcedr. — What  are  they? 

Soc. — First,  the  comprehension  of  scattered  particulars 
in  one  idea;  as  in  our  definition  of  love,  which  whether 
true  or  false  certainly  gave  clearness  and  consistency 
to  the  discourse,  the  speaker  should  define  his  several 
notions  and  so  make  his  meaning  clear. 

Phcedr. — What  is  the  other  principle,  Socrates? 

*  From  Plato's  Phcedrus,  Jowett's  translation,  beginning  p.  265  D. 


PLATO  151 

Soc. — The  second  principle  is  that  of  division  into 
species  according  to  the  natural  formation,  where  the 
joint  is,  not  breaking  any  part  as  a  bad  carver  might. 
Just  as  our  two  discourses,  alike  assumed,  first  of  all, 
a  single  form  of  unreason;  and  then,  as  the  body  which 
from  being  one  becomes  double  and  may  be  divided  into 
a  left  side  and  right  side,  each  having  parts  right  and 
left  of  the  same  name — after  this  manner  the  speaker 
proceeded  to  divide  the  parts  of  the  left  side  and  did  not 
desist  until  he  found  in  them  an  evil  or  left-handed  love 
which  he  justly  reviled;  and  the  other  discourse  lead- 
ing us  to  the  madness  which  lay  on  the  right  side,  found 
another  love,  also  having  the  same  name,  but  divine, 
which  the  speaker  held  up  before  us  and  applauded  and 
affirmed  to  be  the  author  of  the  greatest  benefits. 

Phcedr. — Most  true. 

Soc. — I  am  myself  a  great  lover  of  these  processes  of 
division  and  generalization;  they  help  me  to  speak  and 
to  think.  And  if  I  find  any  man  who  is  able  to  see  "a, 
One  and  Many"  in  nature,  him  I  follow,  and  'Valk  in 
his  footsteps  as  if  he  were  a  god."  And  those  who  have 
this  art,  I  have  hitherto  been  in  the  habit  of  calling 
dialecticians;  but  God  knows  whether  the  name  is  right 
or  not.  ...  ± 

Oratory  ^  is  the  art  of  enchanting  the  soul,  and  there- 
fore he  who  would  be  an  orator  has  to  learn  the  differ- 
ences of  human  souls^they  are  so  many  and  of  such  a 
nature,  and  from  them  come  the  differences  between 
man  and  man.  Having  proceeded  thus  far  in  his 
analysis,  he  will  next  divide  speeches  into  their  different 
classes:   ''Such  and  such  persons,"   he  will  say,    ''are 

•From  Plato's  Phcedr  us,  J  owett's  translation,  beginning  p.  271  D. 


152       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

affected  by  this  or  that  kind  of  speech  in  this  or  that 
way/'  and  he  will  tell  you  why.  The  pupil  must  have  a 
good  theoretical  notion  of  them  first,  and  then  he  must 
have  experience  of  them  in  actual  life,  and  be  able  to 
follow  them  with  all  his  senses  about  him,  or  he  will 
never  get  beyond  the  precepts  of  his  masters.  But  when 
he  understands  what  persons  are  persuaded  by  what 
arguments,  and  sees  the  person  about  whom  he  was 
speaking  in  the  abstract  actually  before  him,  and  knows 
that  it  is  he,  and  can  say  to  himself,  'This  is  the  man  or 
this  is  the  character  who  ought  to  have  a  certain  argu- 
ment applied  to  him  in  order  to  convince  him  of  a  certain 
opinion" ;  he  who  knows  all  this,  and  knows  also  when  he 
should  speak  and  when  he  should  refrain,  and  when  he 
should  use  pithy  sayings,  pathetic  appeals,  sensational 
effects,  and  all  the  other  modes  of  speech  which  he  has 
learned ;  when,  I  say,  he  knows  the  times  and  seasons  of 
all  these  things,  then,  and  not  till  then,  he  is  a  perfect 
master  of  his  art;  but  if  he  fail  in  any  of  these  points, 
whether  in  speaking  or  teaching  or  writing  them,  and 
yet  declares  that  he  speaks  by  rules  of  art,  he  who  says, 
"I  don't  believe  you,''  has  the  better  of  him. 

From  the  Symposium « 

ON  LOVE 

I  will  rehearse  a  tale  of  love  which  I  heard  from 
Diotima  of  Mantineia,  a  woman  wise  in  this  and  in  many 
other  kinds  of  knowledge,  who  in  the  days  of  old,  when 
the  Athenians  offered  sacrifice  before  the  coming  of  the 
plague,  delayed  the  disease  ten  years.  She  was  my 
instructress  in  the  art  of  love,  and  I  shall  repeat  to  you 

•  From  Plato's  Symposium,  Jowett's  translation,  beginning  p. 
201  D. 


PLATO  153 

what  she  said  to  me.  .  .  .  ''^Tiat  then  is  Love?"  I 
asked.  'Is  he  mortal?"  ''No."  ''What  then?"  "As 
in  the  former  instance,  he  is  neither  mortal  nor  im- 
mortal, but  in  a  mean  between  the  two."  "What  is  he, 
Diotima?"  "He  is  a  great  spirit  (Sal/jLcov),  and  like  all 
spirits  he  is  intermediate  between  the  divine  and  the 
mortal."  "And  what,"  I  said,  "is  his  power?"  "He 
interprets,"  she  repHed,  "between  gods  and  men,  con- 
veying and  taking  across  to  the  gods  the  prayers  and 
sacrifices  of  men,  and  to  men  the  commands  and  replies 
of  the  gods;  he  is  the  mediator  who  spans  the  chasm 
which  divides  them,  and  therefore  in  him  all  is  bound 
together,  and  through  him  the  arts  of  the  prophet  and 
the  priest,  their  sacrifices  and  mysteries  and  charms, 
and  all  prophecy  and  incantation,  find  their  way.  For 
God  mingles  not  with  man;  but  through  Love  all  the 
intercourse  and  converse  of  God  with  man,  whether 
awake  or  asleep,  is  carried  on.  The  wisdom  which 
understands  this  is  spiritual;  all  other  wisdom,  such  as 
that  ot  arts  and  handicrafts,  is  mean  and  vulgar.  Now 
these  spirits  or  intermediate  powers  are  many  and 
diverse,  and  one  of  them  is  Love.  .  .  . 

"You  may  say  generally  that  all  desire  of  good  and 
happiness  is  only  the  great  and  subtle  power  of  love ;  but 
they  who  are  drawn  toward  him  by  any  other  path, 
whether  the  path  of  money-making  or  gymnastics  or 
philosophy,  are  not  called  lovers — the  name  of  the 
whole  is  appropriated  to  those  whose  affection  takes 
one  form  only — they  alone  are  said  to  love,  or  to  be 
lovers."  "I  dare  say,"  I  repUed,  "that  you  are  right." 
"Yes,"  she  added,  "and  you  hear  people  say  that  lovers 
are  seeking  for  their  other  half;  but  I  say  that  they  are 
seeking  neither  for  the  half  of  themselves  nor  for  the 


154       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

whole,  unless  the  half  or  the  whole  be  also  a  good.  And 
they  will  cut  off  their  own  hands  and  feet  and  cast  them 
away,  if  they  are  evil;  for  they  love  not  what  is  their 
own,  unless  perchance  there  be  some  one  who  calls  what 
belongs  to  him  the  good,  and  what  belongs  to  another 
the  evil.  For  there  is  nothing  which  men  love  but  the 
good.  Is  there  anything?"  '^Certainly,  I  should  say, 
that  there  is  nothing."  ^Then,"  she  said,  ''the  simple 
truth  is,  that  men  love  the  good."  'Tes,"  I  said.  'To 
which  must  be  added  that  they  love  the  possession  of  the 
good?"  "Yes,  that  must  be  added."  "And  not  only 
the  possession,  but  the  everlasting  possession  of  the 
good?"  "That  must  be  added  too."  "Then  love,"  she 
said,  "may  be  described  generally  as  the  love  of  the 
everlasting  possession  of  the  good?"  "That  is  most 
true." 

"Then  if  this  be  the  nature  of  love,  can  you  tell  me 
further,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  manner  of  the  pursuit? 
what  are  they  doing  who  show  all  this  eagerness  and 
heat  which  is  called  love?  and  what  is  the  object  which 
they  have  in  view?  Answer  me."  '^Nay,  Diotima,"  I 
replied,  "if  I  had  known,  I  should  not  have  wondered  at 
your  wisdom,  neither  should  I  have  come  to  learn  from 
you  about  this  very  matter."  "Well,"  she  said,  "I 
will  teach  you:  The  object  which  they  have  in  view  is 
birth  in  beauty  whether  of  body  or  soul 

"These  are  the  lesser  mysteries  of  love,  into  which 
even  you,  Socrates,  may  enter;  to  the  greater  and  more 
hidden  ones  which  are  the  crown  of  these,  and  to  which, 
if  you  pursue  them  in  a  right  spirit,  they  will  lead,  I 
know  not  whether  you  will  be  able  to  attain.  But  I  will 
do  my  utmost  to  inform  you,  and  do  you  follow  if  you 
can.     For  he  who  would  proceed  aright  in  this  matter 


PLATO  155 

should  begin  in  youth  to  visit  beautiful  forms;  and  first, 
if  he  be  guided  by  his  instructor  aright,  to  love  one  such 
form  onTy — out  of  that  he  should  create  fair  thoughts; 
and  soon  he  will  of  himself  perceive  that  the  beauty  of  one 
form  is  akin  to  the  beauty  of  another ;  and  then  if  beauty 
of  form  in  general  is  his  pursuit,  how  foolish  would  he  be 
not  to  recognize  that  the  beauty  in  every  form  is  one  and 
the  same !  And  when  he  perceives  this  he  will  abate  his 
violent  love  of  the  one,  which  he  will  despise  and  deem 
a  small  thing,  and  will  become  a  lover  of  all  beautiful 
forms ;  in  the  next  stage  he  will  consider  that  the  beauty 
of  the  mind  is  more  honorable  than  the  beauty  of  the 
outward  form.  So  that  if  a  virtuous  soul  have  but  a 
little  comeliness,  he  will  be  content  to  love  and  tend  him, 
and  will  search  out  and  bring  to  the  birth  thoughts 
which  may  improve  the  young,  until  he  is  compelled  to 
contemplate  and  see  the  beauty  of  institutions  and  laws, 
and  to  understand  that  the  beauty  of  them  all  is  of  one 
family,  and  that  personal  beauty  is  a  trifle;  and  after 
laws  and  institutions  he  will  go  on  to  the  sciences,  that 
he  may  see  their  beauty,  being  not  like  a  servant  in  love 
with  the  beauty  of  one  youth  or  man  or  institution, 
himself  a  slave  mean  and  narrow-minded,  but  drawing 
toward  and  contemplating  the  vast  sea  of  beauty,  he 
will  create  many  fair  and  noble  thoughts  and  notions  in 
boundless  love  of  wisdom;  until  on  that  shore  he  grows 
and  waxes  strong,  and  at  last  the  vision  is  revealed  to 
him  of  a  single  science,  which  is  the  science  of  beauty 
everywhere.  To  this  I  will  proceed;  please  to  give  me 
your  very  best  attention : 

''He  who  has  been  instructed  thus  far  in  the  things  of 
love,  and  who  has  learned  to  see  the  beautiful  in  due 
order  and  succession,  when  he  comes  toward  the  end  will 


156       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

suddenly  perceive  a  nature  of  wondrous  beauty  (and 
this,  Socrates,  is  the  final  cause  of  all  our  former  toils) — 
a  nature  which  in  the  first  place  is  everlasting,  not 
growing  and  decaying,  or  waxing  and  waning;  secondly, 
not  fair  in  one  point  of  view  and  foul  in  another,  or  at  one 
time  or  in  one  relation  or  at  one  place  fair,  at  another 
time  or  in  another  relation  or  at  another  place  foul,  as 
if  fair  to  some  and  foul  to  others,  or  in  the  likeness  of  a 
face  or  hands  or  any  other  part  of  the  bodily  frame, 
or  in  any  form  of  speech  or  knowledge,  or  existing  in  any 
other  being,  as  for  example,  in  an  animal,  or  in  heaven, 
or  in  earth,  or  in  any  other  place;  but  beauty  absolute, 
separate,  simple,  and  everlasting,  which  without  diminu- 
tion and  without  increase,  or  any  change,  is  imparted 
to  the  ever-growing  and  perishing  beauties  of  all  other 
things.  He  who  from  these  ascending  under  the  in- 
fluence of  true  love,  begins  to  perceive  that  beauty,  is  not 
far  from  the  end.  And  the  true  order  of  going,  or  being 
led  by  another,  to  the  things  of  love,  is  to  begin  from 
the  beauties  of  earth  and  moimt  upward  for  the  sake  of 
that  other  beauty,  using  these  as  steps  only,  and  from 
one  going  on  to  two,  and  from  two  to  all  fair  forms,  and 
from  fair  forms  to  fair  practices,  and  from  fair  practices 
to  fair  notions,  \mtil  from  fair  notions  he  arrives  at  the 
notion  of  absolute  beauty,  and  at  last  knows  what  the 
essence  of  beauty  is.  This,  my  dear  Socrates,"  said 
the  stranger  of  Mantineia,  ''is  that  life  above  all  others 
which  man  should  live,  in  the  contemplation  of  beauty 
absolute;  a  beauty  which  if  you  once  beheld,  you  would 
see  not  to  be  after  the  measure  of  gold,  and  garments, 
and  fair  boys  and  youths,  whose  presence  now  entrances 
you;  and  you  and  many  a  one  would  be  content  to  live 
seeing  them  only  and  conversing  with  them  without 


PLATO  157 

meat  or  drink,  if  that  were  possible — you  only  want  to 
look  at  them  and  to  be  with  them.  But  what  if  man 
had  eyes  to  see  the  true  beauty — the  divine  beauty,  I 
mean,  pure  and  clear  and  unalloyed,  not  clogged  with 
the  pollutions  of  mortality  and  all  the  colors  and  vanities 
of  human  life — thither  looking,  and  holding  converse 
with  the  true  beauty  simple  and  divine?  Remember 
how  in  that  communion  only,  beholding  beauty  with  the 
eye  of  the  mind,  he  will  be  enabled  to  bring  forth,  not 
images  of  beauty,  but  realities  (for  he  has  hold  not  of  an 
image,  but  of  a  reality),  and  bringing  forth  and  nourishing 
true  virtue  to  become  the  friend  of  God  and  be  immortal, 
if  mortal  man  may.     Would  that  bean  ignoble  life?" 

Such,  Phgedrus — and  I  speak  not  only  to  you,  but  to 
all  of  you — were  the  words  of  Diotima;  and  I  am  per- 
suaded of  their  truth.  And  being  persuaded  of  them, 
I  try  to  persuade  others,  that  in  the  attainment  of  this 
end  human  nature  will  not  easily  find  a  helper  better 
than  love.  And  therefore,  also,  I  say  that  every  man 
ought  to  honor  him  as  I  myseK  honor  him,  and  walk  in 
his  ways,  and  exhort  others  to  do  the  same,  and  praise 
the  power  and  spirit  of  love  according  to  the  measure 
of  my  ability  now  and  ever. 

From  the  Philehus'' 

PLEASURE  AND  THE  OTHER  GOODS 

Socrates. — Then,  Protarchus,  you  will  proclaim  every- 
where, by  word  of  mouth  to  this  company,  and  by 
messengers  bearing  the  tidings  far  and  wide,  that  pleasure 
is  not  the  first  of  possessions,  nor  yet  the  second,  but 
that  in  measure,  and  the  mean,  and  the  suitable,  and  the 
like,  the  eternal  nature  has  been  found. 

»  From  the  Philehus,  p.  66  A,  Jowett's  translation. 


158       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

Protarchus. — Yes,  that  seems  to  be  the  result  of  what 
has  been  now  said. 

Soc. — In  the  second  class  is  contained  the  sym- 
metrical and  beautiful  and  perfect  or  sufficient,  and  all 
which  are  of  that  family. 

Pro.— True. 

Soc. — And  if  you  reckon  in  the  third  class  mind  and 
wisdom,  you  will  not  be  far  wrong,  if  I  divine  aright. 

Pro. — I  dare  say. 

Soc. — And  would  you  not  put  in  the  fourth  class  the 
goods  which  we  were  affirming  to  appertain  specially  to 
the  soul — sciences  and  arts  and  true  opinions  as  we  called 
them?  These  come  after  the  third  class,  and  form  the 
fourth,  as  they  are  certainly  more  akin  to  good  than 
pleasure  is. 

Pro. — Surely. 

Soc. — The  fifth  class  are  the  pleasures  which  were 
defined  by  us  as  painless,  being  the  pure  pleasures  of  the 
soul  herself,  as  we  termed  them,  which  accompany,  some 
the  sciences,  and  some  the  senses. 

Pro. — Perhaps. 

Soc. — And  now,  as  Orpheus  says: 

With  the  sixth  generation  cease  the  glory  of  my  song. 

Here,  at  the  sixth  award,  let  us  make  an  end;  all  that 
remains  is  to  set  the  crown  on  our  discourse. 

Pro. — True. 

Soc. — Then  let  us  sum  up  and  reassert  what  has 
been  said,  thus  offering  the  third  Hbation  to  the  sav- 
iour Zeus. 

Pro.— How? 

Soc. — Philebus  affirmed  that  pleasure  was  always  and 
absolutely  the  good. 


PLATO  159 

Pro. — I  understand;  this  third  Hbation,  Socrates,  of 
which  you  spoke,  meant  a  recapitulation. 

Soc. — ^Yes,  but  Usten  to  the  sequel;  convinced  of  what 
I  have  just  been  saying,  and  feeling  indignant  at  the 
doctrine,  which  is  maintained,  not  by  Philebus  only,  but 
by  thousands  of  others,  I  affirmed  that  mind  was  far 
better  and  far  more  excellent,  as  an  element  of  human 
life,  than  pleasure. 

Pro.— True. 

Soc. — But,  suspecting  that  there  were  other  things 
which  were  also  better,  I  went  on  to  say  that  if  there  was 
anything  better  than  either,  then  I  would  claim  the 
second  place  for  mind  over  pleasure,  and  pleasure  would 
lose  the  second  place  as  well  as  the  first. 

Pro. — You  did. 

Soc. — Nothing  could  be  more  satisfactorily  shown  than 
the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  both  of  them. 

Pro. — Very  true. 

Soc. — The  claims  both  of  pleasure  and  mind  to  be  the 
absolute  good  have  been  entirely  disproven  in  this 
argument,  because  they  are  both  wanting  in  self- 
sufficiency  and  also  in  adequacy  and  perfection. 

Pro. — Most  true. 

Soc. — But,  though  they  must  both  resign  in  favor  of 
another,  mind  is  ten  thousand  times  nearer  and  more 
akin  to  the  nature  of  the  conqueror  than  pleasure. 

Pro. — Certainly. 

Soc. — And,  according  to  the  judgment  which  has  now 
been  given,  pleasure  will  rank  fifth. 

Pro. — True. 

Soc. — But  not  first;  no,  not  even  if  all  the  oxen  and 
horses  and  animals  in  the  world  by  their  pursuit  of  en- 
joyment proclaim  her  to  be  so; — although  the  many 


160       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

trusting  in  them,  as  diviners  trust  in  birds,  determine 
that  pleasures  make  up  the  good  of  life,  and  deem  the 
lusts  of  animals  to  be  better  witnesses  than  the  in- 
spirations of  divine  philosophy. 

From  the  TimcBus* 

THE    CREATION   OP  THE   WORLD 

Timceus. — All  men,  Socrates,  who  have  any  degree  of 
right  feeling,  at  the  beginning  of  every  enterprise, 
whether  small  or  great,  always  call  upon  God.  And  we, 
too,  who  are  going  to  discourse  of  the  nature  of  the  uni- 
verse, how  created  or  how  existing  without  creation,  if 
we  be  not  altogether  out  of  our  wits,  must  evoke  the 
aid  of  gods  and  goddesses  and  pray  that  our  words  may 
be  acceptable  to  them  and  consistent  with  themselves. 
Let  this,  then,  be  our  invocation  of  the  gods,  to  which  I 
add  an  exhortation  of  myself  to  speak  in  such  manner  as 
will  be  most  intelligible  to  you,  and  will  most  accord 
with  my  own  intent. 

First  then,  in  my  judgment,  we  must  make  a  dis- 
tinction and  ask,  What  is  that  which  always  is  and  has 
no  becoming;  and  what  is  that  which  is  always  becoming 
and  never  is  ?  That  which  is  apprehended  by  intelligence 
and  reason  is  always  in  the  same  state;  but  that  which  is 
conceived  by  opinion  with  the  help  of  sensation  and 
without  reason,  is  always  in  a  process  of  becoming  and 
perishing  and  never  really  is.  Now  everything  that 
becomes  or  is  created  must  of  necessity  be  created  by 
some  cause,  for  without  a  cause  nothing  can  be  created. 
The  work  of  the  creator,  whenever  he  looks  to  the  un- 
changeable and  fashions  the  form  and  nature  of  his  work 
after  an  unchangeable  pattern,  must  necessarily  be  made 

8  From  the  TimoBus,  beginning  page  27  C,  Jcwett's  translation. 


PLATO  161 

fair  and  perfect;  but  when  he  looks  to  the  created  only, 
and  uses  a  created  pattern,  it  is  not  fair  or  perfect.  Was 
the  heaven  then  or  the  world,  whether  called  by  this  or 
by  any  other  more  appropriate  name — assuming  the 
name,  I  am  asking  a  question  which  has  to  be  asked  at 
the  beginning  of  an  inquiry  about  anything — was  the 
world,  I  say,  always  in  existence  and  without  beginning  ? 
or  created,  and  had  it  a  beginning?  Created,  I  reply, 
being  visible  and  tangible  and  having  a  body,  and 
therefore  sensible;  and  all  sensible  things  are»apprehended 
by  opinion  and  sense  and  are  in  a  process  of  creation  and 
created.  Now  that  which  is  created  must,  as  we  affirm, 
of  necessity  be  created  by  a  cause.  But  the  father  and 
maker  of  all  this  universe  is  past  finding  out ;  and  even  if 
we  found  him,  to  tell  of  him  to  all  men  would  be  im- 
possible. And  there  is  still  a  question  to  be  asked  about 
him :  Which  of  the  patterns  had  the  artificer  in  view  when 
he  made  the  world, — the  pattern  of  the  unchangeable, 
or  of  that  which  is  created  ?  If  the  world  be  indeed  fair 
and  the  artificer  good,  it  is  manifest  that  he  must  have 
looked  to  that  which  is  eternal;  but  if  what  cannot  be 
said  without  blasphemy  is  true,  then  to  the  created 
pattern.  Every  one  will  see  that  he  must  have  looked 
to  the  eternal;  for  the  world  is  the  fairest  of  creations 
and  he  is  the  best  of  causes.  And  having  been  created 
in  this  way,  the  world  has  been  framed  in  the  likeness 
of  that  which  is  apprehended  by  reason  and  mind  and  is 
imchangeable,  and  must  therefore  of  necessity,  if  this 
is  admitted,  be  a  copy  of  something.  Now  it  is  all- 
important  that  the  beginning  of  everything  should  be 
according  to  nature.  And  in  speaking  of  the  copy  and 
the  original  we  may  assume  that  words  are  akin  to  the 
matter  which  they  describe;  when  they  relate  to  the 


162       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

lasting  and  permanent  and  intelligible,  they  ought  to  be 
lasting  and  unalterable,  and,  as  far  as  their  nature  allows, 
irrefutable  and  immovable — nothing  less.  But  when 
they  express  only  the  copy  or  likeness  and  not  the 
eternal  things  themselves,  they  need  only  be  likely  and 
analogous  to  the  real  words.  As  being  is  to  becoming, 
so  is  truth  to  belief.  If  then,  Socrates,  amid  the  many 
opinions  about  the  gods  and  the  generation  of  the  uni- 
verse, we  are  not  able  to  give  notions  which  are  alto- 
gether and  in  every  respect  exact  and  consistent  with 
one  another,  do  not  be  surprised.  Enough,  if  we  adduce 
probabilities  as  likely  as  any  others;  for  we  must  remem- 
ber that  I  who  am  the  speaker,  and  you  who  are  the 
judges,  are  only  mortal  men,  and  we  ought  to  accept 
the  tale  which  is  probable  and  inquire  no  further. 

Soc. — Excellent,  Timseus;  and  we  will  do  precisely  as 
you  bid  us.  The  prelude  is  charming,  and  is  already 
accepted  by  us — may  we  beg  of  you  to  proceed  to  the 
strain  ? 

Tim. — Let  me  tell  you  then  why  the  Creator  made 
this  world  of  generation.  He  was  good,  and  the  good  can 
never  have  any  jealousy  of  anything.  And  being  free 
from  jealousy,  he  desired  that  all  things  should  be  as  like 
himself  as  they  could  be.  This  is  in  the  truest  sense  the 
origin  of  creation  and  of  the  world,  as  we  shall  do  well 
in  believing  on  the  testimony  of  wise  men :  God  desired 
that  all  things  should  be  good  and  nothing  bad,  so  far  as 
this  was  attainable.  Wherefore  also  finding  the  whole 
visible  sphere  not  at  rest,  but  moving  in  an  irregular  and 
disorderly  fashion,  out  of  disorder  he  brought  order, 
considering  that  this  was  in  every  way  better  than  the 
other.  Now  the  deeds  of  the  best  could  never  be  or  have 
been  other  than  the  fairest;  and  the  Creator,  reflecting 


PLATO  163 

on  the  things  which  are  by  nature  visible,  found  that  no 
unintelligent  creature  taken  as  a  whole  was  fairer  than 
the  intelligent  taken  as  a  whole;  and  that  intelligence 
could  not  be  present  in  anything  which  was  devoid  of 
soul.  For  which  reason,  when  he  was  framing  the 
universe,  he  put  intelligence  in  soul,  and  soul  in  body, 
that  he  might  be  the  creator  of  a  work  which  was  by 
nature  fairest  and  best.  Wherefore,  using  the  language 
of  probability,  we  may  say  that  the  world  became  a 
living  creature  truly  endowed  with  soul  and  intelligence 
by  the  providence  of  God. 

This  being  supposed,  let  us  proceed  to  the  next  stage: 
In  the  likeness  of  what  animal  did  the  Creator  make 
the  world  ?  It  would  be  an  unworthy  thing  to  liken  it  to 
any  nature  which  exists  as  a  part  only;  for  nothing  can 
be  beautiful  which  is  like  any  imperfect  thing ;  but  let  us 
suppose  the  world  to  be  the  very  image  of  that  whole 
of  which  all  other  animals  both  individually  and  in  their 
tribes  are  portions.  For  the  original  of  the  universe 
contains  in  itself  all  intelligible  beings,  just  as  this  world 
comprehends  us  and  all  other  visible  creatures.  For  the 
Deity,  intending  to  make  this  world  like  the  fairest  and 
most  perfect  of  intelligible  beings,  framed  one  visible 
animal  comprehending  within  itself  all  other  animals 
of  a  kindred  nature.  Are  we  right  in  saying  that  there 
is  one  world,  or  that  they  are  many  and  infinite?  There 
must  be  one  only,  if  the  created  copy  is  to  accord  with 
the  original.  For  that  which  includes  all  other  in- 
telligible creatures  cannot  have  a  second  or  companion; 
in  that  case  there  would  be  need  of  another  Uving  being 
which  would  include  both,  and  of  which  they  would  be 
parts,  and  the  likeness  would  be  more  truly  said  to 
resemble  not  them,  but  that  other  which  included  them. 


164       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

In  order  then  that  the  world  might  be  sohtary,  like  the 
perfect  animal,  the  Creator  made  not  two  worlds  or  an 
infinite  number  of  them;  but  there  is  and  ever  will  be 
one  only-begotten  and  created  heaven. 

Such  was  the  whole  plan  of  the  eternal  God  about  the 
god  that  was  to  be,  to  whom  for  this  reason  he  gave  a 
body,  smooth  and  even,  having  a  surface  in  every  direc- 
tion equidistant  from  the  centre,  a  body  entire  and 
perfect,  and  formed  out  of  perfect  bodies.  And  in  the 
centre  he  put  the  soul,  which  he  diffused  throughout  the 
body,  making  it  also  to  be  the  exterior  environment  of  it; 
and  he  made  the  universe  a  circle  moving  in  a  circle, 
one  and  solitary,  yet  by  reason  of  its  excellence,  able  to 
converse  with  itself,  and  needing  no  other  friendship  or 
acquaintance.  Having  these  purposes  in  view  he  created 
the  world  a  blessed  god. 

Now  God  did  not  make  the  soul  after  the  body, 
although  we  are  speaking  of  them  in  this  order;  for  having 
brought  them  together  he  would  never  have  allowed  that 
the  elder  should  be  ruled  by  the  younger;  but  this  is  a 
random  manner  of  speaking  which  we  have,  because 
somehow  we  ourselves  too  are  very  much  under  the 
dominion  of  chance.  Whereas  he  made  the  soul  in  origin 
and  excellence  prior  to  and  older  than  the  body,  to  be 
the  ruler  and  mistress,  of  whom  the  body  was  to  be  the 
subject.  And  he  made  her  out  of  the  following  elements 
and  on  this  wise :  Out  of  the  indivisible  and  unchangeable, 
and  also  out  of  that  which  is  divisible  and  has  to  do  with 
material  bodies,  he  compounded  a  third  and  inter- 
mediate kind  of  essence,  partaking  of  the  nature  of  the 
same  and  of  the  other,  and  this  compound  he  placed 
accordingly  in  a  mean  between  the  indivisible  and  the 
divisible  and  material.    He  took  the  three  elements  of 


PLATO  165 

the  same,  the  other  and  the  essence,  and  mingled  them 
into  one  form,  compressing  by  force  the  reluctant  and 
unsociable  nature  of  the  other  into  the  same.  When  he 
had  mingled  them  with  the  essence  and  out  of  the  three 
made  one,  he  again  divided  this  whole  into  as  many 
portions  as  was  fitting,  each  portion  being  a  compound 
of  the  same,  the  other,  and  the  essence. 

Now  when  the  Creator  had  framed  the  soul  according 
to  his  will,  he  formed  within  her  the  corporeal  universe, 
and  brought  the  two  together,  and  united  them  centre 
to  centre.  The  soul,  infused  everywhere  from  the  centre 
to  the  circumference  of  heaven,  of  which  also  she  is  the 
external  envelopment,  herself  turning  in  herself,  began 
a  divine  beginning  of  never-ceasing  and  rational  life 
enduring  throughout  all  time.  The  body  of  heaven  is 
visible,  but  the  soul  is  invisible,  and  partakes  of  reason 
and  harmony,  and  being  made  by  the  best  of  intellectual 
and  everlasting  natures,  is  the  best  of  things  created. 

When  the  Father  and  Creator  saw  the  creature  which 
he  had  made  moving  and  living,  the  created  image  of  the 
eternal  gods,  he  rejoiced,  and  in  his  joy  determined  to 
make  the  copy  still  more  like  the  original;  and  as  this 
was  eternal,  he  sought  to  make  the  universe  eternal, 
so  far  as  might  be.  Now  the  nature  of  the  ideal  being 
was  everlasting,  but  to  bestow  this  attribute  in  its  ful- 
ness upon  a  creature  was  impossible.  Wherefore  he 
resolved  to  have  a  moving  image  of  eternity,  and  when 
he  set  in  order  the  heaven,  he  made  this  image  eternal 
but  moving  according  to  number,  while  eternity  itseK 
rests  in  imity;  and  this  image  we  call  time.  For  there 
were  no  days  and  nights  and  months  and  years  before 
the  heaven  was  created,  but  when  he  constructed  the 
heaven  he  created  them  also.    They  are  all  parts  of 


166       SOURCE   BOOK   IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

time,  and  the  past  and  future  are  created  species  of  time, 
which  we  unconsciously  but  wrongly  transfer  to  the 
eternal  essence;  for  we  say  that  he  'Svas/'  he  '4s,"  he 
'Vill  be,"  but  the  truth  is  that  ''is"  alone  is  properly  at- 
tributed to  him,  and  that  "was"  and  "will  be"  are  only 
to  be  spoken  of  becoming  in  time,  for  they  are  motions, 
but  that  which  is  immovably  the  same  cannot  become 
older  or  younger  by  time,  nor  ever  did  or  has  become,  or 
hereafter  will  be,  older  or  younger,  nor  is  subject  at  all 
to  any  of  those  states  which  affect  moving  and  sensible 
things  and  of  which  generation  is  the  cause.  These  are 
the  forms  of  time,  which  imitates  eternity  and  revolves 
according  to  a  law  of  number.  Moreover,  when  we  say 
that  what  has  become  is  become  and  what  becomes  is 
becoming,  and  that  what  will  become  is  about  to  become 
and  that  the  non-existent  is  non-existent — all  these  are 
inaccurate  modes  of  expression.  But  perhaps  this  whole 
subject  will  be  more  suitably  discussed  on  some  other 

occasion 

This  new  beginning  of  our  discussion  of  the  universe 
requires  a  fuller  division  than  the  former;  for  then  we 
made  two  classes,  now  a  third  must  be  revealed.  The 
two  sufficed  for  the  former  discussion;  one,  which  we 
assumed,  was  a  pattern  intelligible  and  always  the  same; 
and  the  second  was  only  the  imitation  of  the  pattern, 
generated  and  visible.  There  is  also  a  third  kind  which 
we  did  not  distinguish  at  the  time,  conceiving  that  the 
two  would  be  enough.  But  now  the  argument  seems 
to  require  that  we  should  set  forth  in  words  another  kind, 
which  is  difficult  of  explanation  and  dimly  seen.  What 
nature  are  we  to  attribute  to  this  new  kind  of  being? 
We  reply,  that  it  is  the  receptacle,  and  in  a  manner  the 
nurse,  of  all  generation.  .  .  . 


PLATO  167 

WHY  IT  IS  NECESSARY  TO  ASSUME  EXISTENCE  OF  THE  IDEAS 

Do  all  those  things  which  we  call  self -existent  exist? 
or  are  only  those  things  which  we  see,  or  in  some  way 
perceive  through  the  bodily  organs,  truly  existent,  and 
nothing  whatever  besides  them?  And  is  all  that  which 
we  call  an  intelligible  essence  nothing  at  all,  and  only  a 
name?  Here  is  a  question  which  we  must  not  leave 
unexamined  or  undetermined,  nor  must  we  affirm  too 
confidently  that  there  can  be  no  decision;  neither  must 
we  interpolate  in  our  present  long  discourse  a  digression 
equally  long,  but  if  it  is  possible  to  set  forth  a  great  prin- 
ciple in  a  few  words,  that  is  just  what  we  want. 

Thus  I  state  my  view:  If  mind  and  true  opinion  are 
two  distinct  classes,  then  I  say  that  there  certainly  are 
these  self-existent  ideas  unperceived  by  sense,  and  ap- 
prehended only  by  the  mind;  if,  however,  as  some  say, 
true  opinion  differs  in  no  respect  from  mind,  then  every- 
thing that  we  perceive  through  the  body  is  to  be  re- 
garded as  most  real  and  certain.  But  we  must  affirm 
them  to  be  distinct,  for  they  have  a  distinct  origin  and 
are  of  a  different  nature;  the  one  is  implanted  in  us  by 
instruction,  the  other  by  persuasion;  the  one  is  always 
accompanied  by  true  reason,  the  other  is  without  reason ; 
the  one  cannot  be  overcome  by  persuasion,  but  the  other 
can;  and  lastly,  every  man  may  be  said  to  share  in  true 
opinion,  but  mind  is  the  attribute  of  the  gods  and  of 
very  few  men.  Wherefore  also  we  must  acknowledge 
that  there  is  one  kind  of  being  which  is  always  the  same, 
imcreated  and  indestructible,  never  receiving  anything 
into  itself  from  without,  nor  itself  going  out  to  any  other, 
but  invisible  and  imperceptible  by  any  sense,  and  of 
which  the  contemplation  is  granted  to  intelligence  only. 
And  there  is  another  nature  of  the  same  name  with  it, 


168       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

and  like  to  it,  perceived  by  sense,  created,  always  in 
motion,  becoming  in  place  and  again  vanishing  out  of 
place,  which  is  apprehended  by  opinion  and  sense.  And 
there  is  a  third  nature,  which  is  space,  and  is  eternal, 
and  admits  not  of  destruction  and  provides  a  home  for  all 
created  things,  and  is  apprehended  without  the  help  of 
sense,  by  a  kind  of  spurious  reason,  and  is  hardly  real; 
which  we  beholding  as  in  a  dream,  say  of  all  existence 
that  it  must  of  necessity  be  in  some  place  and  occupy 
a  space,  but  that  what  is  neither  in  heaven  nor  in  earth 
has  no  existence.  Of  these  and  other  things  of  the  same 
kind,  relating  to  the  true  and  waking  reality  of  nature, 
we  have  only  this  dream-like  sense,  and  we  are  unable  to 
cast  off  sleep  and  determine  the  truth  about  them.  For 
an  image,  since  the  reality,  after  which  it  is  modelled, 
does  not  belong  to  it,  and  it  exists  ever  as  the  fleeting 
shadow  of  some  other,  must  be  inferred  to  be  in  another 
[i.  e.,  in  space],  grasping  existence  in  some  way  or  other, 
or  it  could  not  be  at  all.  But  true  and  exact  reason, 
vindicating  the  nature  of  true  being,  maintains  that 
while  two  things  [i.  e.,  the  image  and  space]  are  different 
they  cannot  exist  one  of  them  in  the  other  and  so  be  one 
and  also  two  at  the  same  time. 

From  the  Parmenides^ 

PUZZLES    PRESENTED    BY    THE    THEORY    OF    IDEAS 

'I  understand,"  said  Socrates,  ''and  quite  accept 
your  account.  But  tell  me,  Zeno,  do  you  not  further 
think  that  there  is  an  idea  of  likeness  in  itself,  and  an- 
other idea  of  unlikeness,  which  is  the  opposite  of  likeness, 
and  that  in  these  two  you  and  I,  and  all  other  things  to 
which  we  apply  the  term  many,  participate — things  which 
9  From  the  Parmenides,  Jowett's  translation,  beginning  p.  128  E. 


PLATO  169 

participate  m  likeness  become  in  that  degree  and  manner 
like;  and  so  far  as  they  participate  in  unlikeness  become 
in  that  degree  unhke,  or  both  hke  and  unlike  in  the  degree 
in  which  they  participate  in  both?  And  may  not  all 
things  partake  of  both  opposites,  and  be  both  like  and 
unlike,  by  reason  of  this  participation?  Where  is  the 
wonder?  Now  if  a  person  could  prove  the  absolute  like 
to  become  unhke,  or  the  absolute  unlike  to  become  like, 
that,  in  my  opinion,  would  indeed  be  a  wonder;  but  there 
is  nothing  extraordinary,  Zeno,  in  showing  that  the  things 
which  only  partake  of  hkeness  and  unhkeness  experience 
both.  Nor,  again,  if  a  person  were  to  show  that  all  is  one 
by  partaking  of  one,  and  at  the  same  time  many  by 
partaking  of  many,  w^ould  that  be  very  astonishing?  But 
if  he  were  to  show  me  that  the  absolute  one  was  many, 
or  the  absolute  many  one,  I  should  be  truly  amazed. 
And  so  of  all  the  rest :  I  should  be  surprised  to  hear  that 
the  natures  or  ideas  themselves  had  these  opposite 
qualities;  but  not  if  a  person  wanted  to  prove  of  me  that 
I  was  many  and  also  one.  T\Tien  he  wanted  to  show  that 
I  was  many  he  would  say  that  I  have  a  right  and  a  left 
side,  and  a  front  and  a  back,  and  an  upper  and  a  lower 
half,  for  I  cannot  deny  that  I  partake  of  multitude; 
when,  on  the  other  hand,  he  wants  to  prove  that  I  am 
one,  he  will  say,  that  we  who  are  here  assembled  are 
seven,  and  that  I  am  one,  and  partake  of  the  one.  In 
both  instances  he  proves  his  case.  So  again,  if  a  person 
shows  that  such  things  as  wood,  stones,  and  the  like, 
being  many  are  also  one,  we  admit  that  he  shows  the  co- 
existence of  the  one  and  many,  but  he  does  not  show 
that  the  many  are  one  or  the  one  many;  he  is  uttering 
not  a  paradox  but  a  truism.  If,  however,  as  I  just  now 
suggested,  some  one  were  to  abstract  simple  notions  of 


170        SOLTKUE    BUUK   IN    ANCJIENI    rHIL080PH\ 

like,  unlike,  one,  many,  rest,  motion,  and  similar  ideas, 
and  then  to  show  that  these  admit  of  admixtm-e  and 
separation  in  themselves,  I  should  be  very  much  as- 
tonished. This  part  of  the  argument  appears  to  be 
treated  by  you,  Zeno,  in  a  very  spirited  manner;  but,  as 
I  was  saying,  I  should  be  far  more  amazed  if  any  one 
found  in  the  ideas  themselves  which  are  apprehended  by 
reason,  the  same  puzzle  and  entanglement  which  you 
have  shown  to  exist  in  visible  objects.'' 

While  Socrates  was  speaking,  Pythodorus  thought  that 
Parmenides  and  Zeno  were  not  altogether  pleased  at  the 
successive  steps  of  the  argument;  but  still  they  gave  the 
closest  attention,  and  often  looked  at  one  another,  and 
smiled  as  if  in  admiration  of  him.  When  he  had  finished, 
Parmenides  expressed  their  feelings  in  the  following 
words : 

''Socrates,"  he  said,  ''I  admire  the  bent  of  your  mind 
toward  philosophy;  tell  me  now,  was  this  your  own  dis- 
tinction between  ideas  in  themselves  and  the  things 
which  partake  of  them  ?  and  do  you  think  that  there  is  an 
idea  of  likeness  apart  from  the  likeness  which  we  possess, 
and  of  the  one  and  many,  and  of  the  other  things  which 
Zeno  mentioned?  " 

''I  think  that  there  are  such  ideas,"  said  Socrates. 

Parmenides  proceeded:  ''And  would  you  also  make 
absolute  ideas  of  the  just  and  the  beautiful  and  the  good, 
and  of  all  that  class?  " 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  should." 

"And  would  you  make  an  idea  of  man  apart  from  us 
and  from  all  other  human  creatures,  or  of  fire  and  water?" 

"I  am  often  undecided,  Parmenides,  as  to  whether  I 
ought  to  include  them  or  not." 

"And  would  you  feel  equally  undecided,   Socrates, 


PLATO  171 

about  things  of  which  the  mention  may  provoke  a  smile? 
— I  mean  such  things  as  hair,  mud,  dirt,  or  anything 
else  which  is  vile  and  paltry;  would  you  suppose  that 
each  of  these  has  an  idea  distinct  from  the  actual  objects 
with  which  we  come  into  contact,  or  not?" 

'^Certainly  not,"  said  Socrates;  ^Visible  things  like 
these  are  such  as  they  appear  to  us,  and  I  am  afraid  that 
there  would  be  an  absurdity  in  assuming  any  idea  of 
them,  although  I  sometimes  get  disturbed,  and  begin  to 
think  that  there  is  nothing  without  an  idea;  but  then 
again,  when  I  have  taken  up  this  position,  I  run  away, 
because  I  am  afraid  that  I  may  fall  into  a  bottomless  pit 
of  nonsense,  and  perish;  and  so  I  return  to  the  ideas  of 
which  I  was  just  now  speaking,  and  occupy  myself  with 
them." 

''Yes,  Socrates,"  said  Parmenides;  ''that  is  because 
you  are  still  young;  the  time  will  come,  if  I  am  not  mis- 
taken, when  philosophy  will  have  a  firmer  grasp  of  you, 
and  then  you  will  not  despise  even  the  meanest  things; 
at  your  age,  you  are  too  much  disposed  to  regard  the 
opinions  of  men.  But  I  should  like  to  know  whether 
you  mean  that  there  are  certain  ideas  of  which  all  other 
things  partake,  and  from  which  they  derive  their  names; 
that  similars,  for  example,  become  similar,  because  they 
partake  of  similarity;  and  great  things  become  great, 
because  they  partake  of  greatness;  and  that  just  and 
beautiful  things  become  just  and  beautiful  because  they 
partake  of  justice  and  beauty?" 

"Yes,  certainly,"  said  Socrates,  "that  is  my  meaning." 

"Then  each  individual  partakes  either  of  the  whole  of 
the  idea  or  else  of  a  part  of  the  idea  ?  Can  there  be  any 
other  mode  of  participation?" 

"There  cannot  be,"  he  said. 


172       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

'Then  do  you  think  that  the  whole  idea  is  one,  and 
yet,  being  one,  is  in  each  one  of  the  many?" 

''Why  not,  Parmenides?  "  said  Socrates. 

"Because  one  and  the  same  thing  will  exist  as  a  whole 
at  the  same  time  in  many  separate  individuals,  and  will 
therefore  be  in  a  state  of  separation  from  itself." 

"Nay,  but  the  idea  may  be  hke  the  day  which  is  one 
and  the  same  in  many  places  at  once,  and  yet  continuous 
with  itself ;  in  this  way  each  idea  may  be  one  and  the  same 
in  all  at  the  same  time." 

"I  like  your  way,  Socrates,  of  making  one  in  many 
places  at  once.  You  mean  to  say,  that  if  I  were  to 
spread  out  a  sail  and  cover  a  number  of  men,  there  would 
be  one  whole  including  many — is  not  that  your  mean- 
ing?" 

"I  think  so." 

"And  would  you  say  that  the  whole  sail  includes  each 
man,  or  part  of  it  only,  and  different  parts  different 
men?" 

"The  latter." 

"Then,  Socrates,  the  ideas  themselves  will  be  divisible, 
and  things  which  participate  in  them  will  have  a  part  of 
them  only  and  not  the  whole  idea  existing  in  each  of 
them?" 

"That  seems  to  follow." 

"Then  would  you  like  to  say,  Socrates,  that  the  one 
idea  is  really  divisible  and  yet  remains  one?" 

"Certainly  not,"  he  said. 

"Suppose  that  you  divide  absolute  greatness,  and  that 
of  the  many  great  things,  each  one  is  great  in  virtue  of  a 
portion  of  greatness  less  than  absolute  greatness — is  that 
conceivable?" 

"No." 


PLATO  173 

^^Or  will  each  equal  thing,  if  possessing  some  small 
portion  of  equality  less  than  absolute  equality,  be  equal 
to  some  other  thing  by  virtue  of  that  portion  only?" 

^Impossible.'' 

^'Or  suppose  one  of  us  to  have  a  portion  of  smallness; 
this  is  but  a  part  of  the  small,  and  therefore  the  ab- 
solutely small  is  greater;  if  the  absolutely  small  be 
greater,  that  to  which  the  part  of  the  small  is  added  will 
be  smaller  and  not  greater  than  before." 

''How  absurd!" 

'Then  in  what  way,  Socrates,  will  all  things  participate 
in  the  ideas,  if  they  are  unable  to  participate  in  them 
either  as  parts  or  wholes?" 

"Indeed,"  he  said,  "you  have  asked  a  question  which 
is  not  easily  answered." 

"Well,"  said  Parmenides,  "and  what  do  you  say  of 
another  question?" 

"What  question?" 

"I  imagine  that  the  way  in  which  you  are  led  to 
assume  one  idea  of  each  kind  is  as  follows:  You  see  a 
nimiber  of  great  objects,  and  when  you  look  at  them 
there  seems  to  you  to  be  one  and  the  same  idea  (or 
nature)  in  them  all;  hence  you  conceive  of  greatness  as 
one." 

"Very  true,"  said  Socrates. 

"And  if  you  go  on  and  allow  your  mind  in  like  manner 
to  embrace  in  one  view  the  idea  of  greatness  and  of  great 
things  which  are  not  the  idea,  and  to  compare  them,  will 
not  another  greatness  arise,  which  will  appear  to  be  the 
source  of  all  these?" 

"It  would  seem  so." 

"Then  another  idea  of  greatness  now  comes  into  view 
over  and  above  absolute  greatness,  and  the  individuals 


174       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

which  partake  of  it;  and  then  another,  over  and  above  all 
these,  by  virtue  of  which  they  will  all  be  great,  and  so 
each  idea  instead  of  being  one  will  be  infinitely  mul- 
tiphed." 

^'But  may  not  the  ideas,"  asked  Socrates,  ''be  thoughts 
only,  and  have  no  proper  existence  except  in  our  minds, 
Parmenides?  For  in  that  case  each  idea  may  still  be 
one.  and  not  experience  this  infinite  multipH cation." 

''And  can  there  be  individual  thoughts  which  are 
thoughts  of  nothing?" 

"Impossible,"  he  said. 

"The  thought  must  be  of  something ?'' 

"Yes." 

"Of  something  which  is  or  which  is  not?" 

"Of  something  which  is." 

"Must  it  not  be  of  a  single  something,  which  the 
thought  recognizes  as  attaching  to  all,  being  a  single 
form  or  nature?" 

"Yes." 

"And  will  not  the  something  which  is  apprehended  as 
one  and  the  same  in  all,  be  an  idea?" 

"From  that,  again,  there  is  no  escape." 

"Then,"  said  Parmenides,  "if  you  say  that  everything 
else  participates  in  the  ideas,  must  you  not  say  either 
that  everything  is  made  up  of  thoughts,  and  that  all 
things  think;  or  that  they  are  thoughts  but  have  no 
thought?" 

"The  latter  view,  Parmenides,  is  no  more  rational  than 
the  previous  one.  In  my  opinion,  the  ideas  are,  as  it 
were,  patterns  fixed  in  nature,  and  other  things  are  Uke 
them,  and  resemblances  of  them — ^what  is  meant  by  the 
participation  of  other  things  in  the  ideas,  is  really  as- 
similation to  them." 


PLATO  175 

''But  if,"  said  he,  "the  individual  is  Uke  the  idea,  must 
not  the  idea  also  be  like  the  individual,  in  so  far  as  the 
individual  is  a  resemblance  of  the  idea?  That  which  is 
(•ike,  cannot  be  conceived  of  as  other  than  the  like  of  like." 

"Impossible." 

"And  when  two  things  are  alike,  must  they  not  partake 
i:f  the  same  idea?" 

"They  must." 

"And  will  not  that  of  which  the  two  partake,  and  which 
makes  them  ahke,  be  the  idea  itself?" 

"Certainly." 

"Then  the  idea  cannot  be  like  the  individual,  or  the 
individual  like  the  idea;  for  if  they  are  alike,  some 
further  idea  of  likeness  will  always  be  coming  to  light, 
and  if  that  be  like  anything  else,  another;  and  new  ideas 
will  be  always  arising,  if  the  idea  resembles  that  which 
partakes  of  it?" 

"Quite  true." 

"The  theory,  then,  that  other  things  participate  in  the 
ideas  by  resemblance,  has  to  be  given  up,  and  some  other 
mode  of  participation  devised?" 

"It  would  seem  so." 

"Do  you  see  then,  Socrates,  how  great  is  the  difficulty 
of  affirming  the  ideas  to  be  absolute?" 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"And,  further,  let  me  say  that  as  yet  you  only  under- 
stand a  small  part  of  the  difficulty  which  is  involved  if 
you  make  of  each  thing  a  single  idea,  parting  it  off  from 
other  things." 

"What  difficulty?"  he  said. 

"There  are  many,  but  the  greatest  of  all  is  this:  If  an 
opponent  argues  that  these  ideas,  being  such  as  we  say 
they  ought  to  be,  must  remain  unknown,  no  one  can 


176      SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

prove  to  him  that  he  is  wrong,  unless  he  who  denies 
their  existence  be  a  man  of  great  abiUty  and  knowledge, 
and  is  willing  to  follow  a  long  and  laborious  demonstra- 
tion; he  will  remain  unconvinced,  and  still  insist  that 
they  cannot  be  known." 

''What  do  you  mean,  Parmenides?"  said  Socrates. 

'In  the  first  place,  I  think,  Socrates,  that  you,  or  any 
one  who  maintains  the  existence  of  absolute  essences,  will 
admit  that  they  cannot  exist  in  us." 

"No,"  said  Socrates;  "for  then  they  would  be  no  longer 
absolute." 

"True,"  he  said;  "and  therefore  when  ideas  are  what 
they  are  in  relation  to  one  another,  their  essence  is 
determined  by  a  relation  among  themselves,  and  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  resemblances,  or  whatever  they 
are  to  be  termed,  which  are  in  our  sphere  and  from  which 
we  receive  this  or  that  name  when  we  partake  of  them. 
And  the  things  which  are  within  our  sphere  and  have  the 
same  names  with  them,  are  likewise  only  relative  to  one 
another,  and  not  to  the  ideas  which  have  the  same 
names  with  them,  but  belong  to  themselves  and  not  to 
them." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Socrates. 

"I  may  illustrate  my  meaning  in  this  way,''  said 
Parmenides:  "A  master  has  a  slave;  now  there  is  noth- 
ing absolute  in  the  relation  between  them,  which  is 
simply  a  relation  of  one  man  to  another.  But  there  is 
also  an  idea  of  mastership  in  the  abstract,  which  is 
relative  to  the  idea  of  slavery  in  the  abstract.  These 
natures  have  nothing  to  do  with  us,  nor  we  with  them; 
they  are  concerned  with  themselves  only,  and  we  with 
ourselves.     Do  you  see  my  meaning?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Socrates,  "I  quite  see  your  meaning." 


PLATO  177 

^'And  will  not  knowledge — I  mean  absolute  knowledge 
— answer  to  absolute  truth?" 

^^Certainly/' 

''And  each  kind  of  absolute  knowledge  will  answer  to 
each  kind  of  absolute  being?" 

'Tes." 

''But  the  knowledge  which  we  have,  will  answer  to  the 
truth  which  we  have;  and  again,  each  kind  of  knowledge 
which  we  have,  will  be  a  knowledge  of  each  kind  of  being 
which  we  have  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"But  the  ideas  themselves,  as  you  admit,  we  have  not, 
and  cannot  have?" 

"No,  we  cannot." 

"And  the  absolute  natures  or  kinds  are  known  severally 
by  the  absolute  idea  of  knowledge?  " 

"Yes." 

"And  we  have  not  got  the  idea  of  knowledge  ?" 

"No." 

"Then  none  of  the  ideas  are  known  to  us,  because  we 
have  no  share  in  absolute  knowledge?" 

"I  suppose  not." 

"Then  the  nature  of  the  beautiful  in  itself,  and  of  the 
good  in  itself,  and  all  other  ideas  which  we  suppose  to 
exist  absolutely,  are  unknown  to  us?" 

"It  would  seem  so." 

"I  think  that  there  is  a  stranger  consequence  still." 

"What  is  it?" 

"Would  you,  or  would  you  not  say,  that  absolute 
knowledge,  if  there  is  such  a  thing,  must  be  a  far  more 
exact  knowledge  than  our  knowledge;  and  the  same  of 
beauty  and  of  the  rest?" 

"Yes." 


178       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

''And  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  participation  in 
absolute  knowledge,  no  one  is  more  likely  than  God  to 
have  this  most  exact  knowledge?" 

''Certainly.'' 

"But  then,  will  God,  having  absolute  knowledge,  have 
a  knowledge  of  human  things?" 

"^Vhynot?" 

"Because,  Socrates,"  said  Parmenides,  "we  have  ad- 
mitted that  the  ideas  are  not  valid  in  relation  to  human 
things;  nor  human  things  in  relation  to  them;  the  rela- 
tions of  either  are  limited  to  their  respective  spheres." 

"Yes,  that  has  been  admitted." 

"And  if  God  has  this  perfect  authority,  and  perfect 
knowledge.  His  authority  cannot  rule  us,  nor  His 
knowledge  know  us,  or  any  human  thing;  just  as  our 
authority  does  not  extend  to  the  gods,  nor  our  knowledge 
know  anything  which  is  divine,  so  by  parity  of  reason 
they,  being  gods,  are  not  our  masters,  neither  do  they 
know  the  things  of  men." 

"Yet,  surely,"  said  Socrates,  "to  deprive  God  of 
knowledge  is  monstrous." 

"These,  Socrates,"  said  Parmenides,  "are  a  few,  and 
only  a  few  of  the  difficulties  in  which  we  are  involved  if 
ideas  really  are  and  we  determine  each  one  of  them  to  be 
an  absolute  unity.  He  who  hears  what  may  be  said 
against  them  will  deny  the  very  existence  of  them — and 
even  if  they  do  exist,  he  will  say  that  they  must  of 
necessity  be  unknown  to  man;  and  he  will  seem  to  have 
reason  on  his  side,  and  as  we  were  remarking  just  now, 
will  be  very  difficult  to  convince;  a  man  must  be  gifted 
with  very  considerable  ability  before  he  can  learn  that 
everything  has  a  class  and  an  absolute  essence;  and  still 
more  remarkable  will  he  be  who  discovers  all  these  things 


PLATO  179 

for  himself,  and  having  thoroughly  investigated  them  is 
able  to  teach  them  to  others." 

"1  agree  with  you,  Parmenides,"  said  Socrates;  ''and 
what  you  say  is  very  much  to  my  mind." 

"And  yet,  Socrates,"  said  Parmenides,  ''if  a  man, 
fixing  his  attention  on  these  and  the  like  difficulties,  does 
away  with  ideas  of  things  and  will  not  admit  that  every 
individual  thing  has  its  own  determinate  idea  which  is 
always  one  and  the  same,  he  will  have  nothing  on  which 
his  mind  can  rest;  and  so  he  will  utterly  destroy  the 
power  of  reasoning,  as  you  seem  to  me  to  have  par- 
ticularly noted." 

"Very  true,"  he  said. 

"But  then,  what  is  to  become  of  philosophy?  Whither 
shall  we  turn,  if  the  ideas  are  unknown?" 

"I  certainly  do  not  see  my  way  at  present." 

"Yes,"  said  Parmenides;  "and  I  think  that  this  arises, 
Socrates,  out  of  your  attempting  to  define  the  beautiful, 
the  just,  the  good,  and  the  ideas  generally,  without 
sufficient  previous  training." 


XIII 

VLATO—iContinued) 

From  The  Republic 

THE    NATURE    OF   VIRTUE 

'TelP  me,  do  you  think  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a 
horse's  function?" 

'1  do." 

''Would  you,  then,  describe  the  function  of  a  horse,  or 
of  anything  else  whatever,  as  that  work,  for  the  ac- 
complishment of  which  it  is  either  the  sole  or  the  best 
instrument?" 

"1  do  not  understand." 

"Look  at  it  this  way.  Can  you  see  with  anything 
besides  eyes?" 

''Certainly  not." 

"Can  you  hear  with  anything  besides  ears?" 

"No." 

"Then  should  we  not  justly  say  that  seeing  and  hearing 
are  the  functions  of  these  organs?" 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"Again,  you  might  cut  off  a  vine  shoot  with  a  carving 
knife,  or  chisel,  or  many  other  tools?" 

"Undoubtedly." 

"But  with  no  tool,  I  imagine,  so  well  as  with  the 
pruning  knife  made  for  the  purpose." 

1  Plato's  Republic,  Book  I.  p.  352  E.  The  translations  from  The 
Republic  included  in  this  section  are  all  taken  from  the  version  of 
Davies  and  Vaughan. 

180 


PLATO  181 

"True.'' 

"Then  shall  we  not  define  pruning  to  be  the  function 
of  the  pruning  knife?" 

'^By  all  means." 

''Now  then,  I  think,  you  will  better  understand  what 
I  wished  to  learn  from  you  just  now,  when  I  asked 
whether  the  function  of  a  thing  is  not  that  work  for  the 
accomphshment  of  which  it  is  either  the  sole  or  the  best 
instrument?" 

'T  do  understand,  and  I  believe  that  this  is  in  every 
case  the  function  of  a  thing." 

''Very  well:  do  you  not  also  think  that  everything 
which  has  an  appointed  function  has  also  a  proper 
virtue?  Let  us  revert  to  the  same  instances;  we  say  that 
the  eyes  have  a  function?" 

"They  have." 

"Then  have  the  eyes  a  virtue  also?" 

"They  have." 

"And  the  ears:  did  we  assign  them  a  function?" 

"Yes." 

"Then  have  they  a  virtue  also?" 

"They  have." 

"And  is  it  the  same  with  all  other  things?" 

"The  same." 

"Attend  then:  Do  you  suppose  that  the  eyes  could 
discharge  their  own  function  well  if  they  had  not  their 
own  proper  virtue — that  virtue  being  replaced  by  a 
vice?" 

"How  could  they?  You  mean,  probably,  if  sight  is 
replaced  by  bUndness." 

"I  mean,  whatever  their  virtue  be;  for  I  am  not  come 
to  that  question  yet.  At  present  I  am  asking  whether 
it  is  through  their  own  peculiar  virtue  that  things  per- 


182       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

form  their  proper  functions  well,  and  through  their  own 
peculiar  vice  that  they  perform  them  ill?" 

''You  cannot  be  wrong  in  that." 

"Then  if  the  ears  lose  their  own  virtue,  will  they 
execute  their  functions  ill?" 

''Certainly." 

"May  we  include  all  other  things  under  the  same 
proposition?" 

"I  think  we  may." 

"Come,  then,  consider  this  point  next.  Has  the  soul 
any  function  which  could  not  be  executed  by  means  of 
anything  else  whatsoever?  For  example,  could  we  in 
justice  assign  superintendence  and  government,  delibera- 
tion, and  the  like,  to  anything  but  the  soul,  or  should  we 
pronounce  them  to  be  pecuHar  to  it?" 

"We  could  ascribe  them  to  nothing  else." 

"Again,  shall  we  declare  life  to  be  a  function  of  the 
soul?'' 

"Decidedly." 

"Do  we  not  also  maintain  that  the  soul  has  a  virtue?" 

"We  do." 

"Then  can  it  ever  so  happen,  Thrasymachus,  that  the 
soul  will  perform  its  functions  well  when  destitute  of  its 
own  peculiar  virtue,  or  is  that  impossible?" 

"Impossible." 

"Then  a  bad  soul  must  needs  exercise  authority  and 
superintendence  ill,  and  a  good  soul  must  do  all  these 
things  well." 

THE    FOUR    CARDINAL    VIRTUES 

"What  2  at  the  commencement  we  laid  down  as  a 
imiversal  rule  of  action,  when  we  were  founding  our 

2  Plato's  Republic,  Book  IV.  433  A. 


PLATO  183 

state,  this,  if  I  mistake  not,  or  some  modification  of  it, 
is  justice.  I  think  we  affirmed,  if  you  recollect,  and 
frequently  repeated,  that  every  individual  ought  to  have 
some  one  occupation  in  the  state,  which  should  be  that 
to  which  his  natural  capacity  was  best  adapted." 

''We  did  say  so." 

"And  again,  we  have  often  heard  people  say,  that  to 
mind  one's  own  business,  and  not  be  meddlesome,  is 
justice;  and  we  have  often  said  the  same  thing  ourselves." 

''We  have  said  so." 

"Then  it  would  seem,  my  friend,  that  to  do  one's  own 
business,  in  some  shape  or  other,  is  justice.  Do  you 
know  whence  I  infer  this?" 

'^No;  be  so  good  as  to  tell  me." 

"I  think  that  the  remainder  left  in  the  state,  after 
eliminating  the  qualities  which  we  have  considered,  I 
mean  temperance,  and  courage,  and  wisdom,  must  be 
that  which  made  their  entrance  into  it  possible,  and 
which  preserves  them  there  so  long  as  they  exist  in  it. 
Now  we  affirmed  that  the  remaining  quality,  when  three 
out  of  the  four  were  found,  would  be  justice.  ..." 

"Here  then,"  I  proceeded,  "  after  a  hard  struggle,  we 
have,  though  with  difficulty,  reached  the  land;  and  we 
are  pretty  well  satisfied  that  there  are  corresponding 
divisions,  equal  in  number,  in  a  state,  and  in  the  soul  of 
every  individual." 

"True." 

"Then  does  it  not  necessarily  follow  that,  as  and 
whereby  the  state  was  wise,  so  and  thereby  the  in- 
dividual is  wise?" 

'^Without  doubt  it  does." 

'^And  that  as  and  whereby  the  individual  is  brave,  so 
and  thereby  is  the  state  brave;  and  that  everything 


184       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

conducing  to  virtue  which  is  possessed  by  the  one,  finds 
its  counterpart  in  the  other?" 

''It  must  be  so." 

'Then  we  shall  also  assert,  I  imagine,  Glaucon,  that  a 
man  is  just,  in  the  same  way  in  which  we  found  the  state 
to  be  just." 

"This  too  is  a  necessary  corollary." 

"But  surely  we  have  not  allowed  ourselves  to  forget, 
that  what  makes  the  state  just,  is  the  fact  of  each  of  the 
three  classes  therein  doing  its  own  work." 

"No;  I  think  we  have  not  forgotten  this." 

"We  must  bear  in  mind,  then,  that  each  of  us  also, 
if  his  inward  faculties  do  severally  their  proper  work, 
will,  in  virtue  of  that,  be  a  just  man,  and  a  doer  of  his 
proper  work." 

"Certainly,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind." 

"Is  it  not  then  essentially  the  province  of  the  rational 
principle  to  command,  inasmuch  as  it  is  wise,  and  has  to 
exercise  forethought  in  behalf  of  the  entire  soul,  and  the 
province  of  the  spirited  principle  to  be  its  subject  and 
ally?" 

"Yes,  certainly." 

"And  will  not  the  combination  of  music  and  gymnastic 
bring  them,  as  we  said,  into  unison ;  elevating  and  foster- 
ing the  one  with  lofty  discourses  and  scientific  teachings, 
and  lowering  the  tone  of  the  other  by  soothing  address, 
till  its  wildness  has  been  tamed  by  harmony  and 
rhythm?" 

"Yes,  precisely  so." 

"And  so  these  two,  having  been  thus  trained,  and 
having  truly  learned  their  parts  and  received  a  real 
education,  will  exercise  control  over  the  concupiscent 
principle,  which  in  every  man  forms  the  largest  portion 


PLATO  185 

of  the  soul,  and  is  by  nature  most  insatiably  covetous. 
And  they  will  watch  it  narrowly,  that  it  may  not  so 
batten  upon  what  are  called  the  pleasures  of  the  body 
as  to  grow  large  and  strong,  and  forthwith  refuse  to  do 
its  proper  work,  and  even  aspire  to  absolute  dominion 
over  the  classes  which  it  has  no  right  according  to  its 
kind  to  govern,  thus  overturning  fundamentally  the  life 
of  aU/' 

'^Certainly  they  will." 

''And  would  not  these  two  principles  be  the  best 
qualified  to  guard  the  entire  soul  and  body  against 
enemies  from  without;  the  one  taking  counsel,  and  the 
other  fighting  its  battles,  in  obedience  to  the  gov- 
erning power,  to  whose  designs  it  gives  effect  by  its 
bravery?'' 

'True.'' 

"In  like  manner,  I  think,  we  call  an  individual  brave, 
in  virtue  of  the  spirited  element  of  his  nature,  when  this 
part  of  him  holds  fast,  through  pain  and  pleasure,  the 
instructions  of  the  reason  as  to  what  is  to  be  feared,  and 
what  is  not." 

"Yes,  and  rightly." 

"And  we  call  him  wise,  in  virtue  of  that  small  part 
which  reigns  within  him,  and  issues  these  instructions, 
and  which  also  in  its  turn  contains  within  itself  a  true 
knowledge  of  what  is  advantageous  for  the  whole  com- 
munity composed  of  these  three  principles,  and  for  each 
member  of  it." 

"Exactly  so." 

"Again,  do  we  not  call  a  man  temperate,  in  virtue  of 
the  friendship  and  harmony  of  these  same  principles, 
that  is  to  say,  when  the  two  that  are  governed  agree  with 
that  which  governs  in  regarding  the  rational  principle 


186       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

as  the  rightful  sovereign,  and  set  up  no  opposition  to  its 
authority?" 

'^Certainly/'  he  repUed;  ^'temperance  is  nothing  else 
than  this,  whether  in  state  or  individual." 

' 'Lastly,  a  man  will  be  just,  in  the  way  and  by  the 
means  which  we  have  repeatedly  described." 

THE    HIGHER    EDUCATION   LEADING   UP   TO   THE    IDEA    OF   THE    GOOD 

''Well,3  then,  this  part  of  the  subject  having  been 
laboriously  completed,  shall  we  proceed  to  discuss  the 
questions  still  remaining,  in  what  way,  and  by  the  help 
of  what  pursuits  and  studies,  we  shall  secure  the  presence 
of  a  body  of  men  capable  of  preserving  the  constitution 
unimpaired,  and  what  must  be  the  age  at  which  these 
studies  are  severally  undertaken?" 

''Let  us  do  so,  by  all  means." 

"I  have  gained  nothing,"  I  continued,  "by  my  old 
scheme  of  omitting  the  troublesome  questions  involved 
in  the  treatment  of  the  women  and  children,  and  the 
appointment  of  the  magistrates ;  which  I  was  induced  to 
leave  out  from  knowing  what  odium  the  perfectly  correct 
method  would  incur,  and  how  difficult  it  w^ould  be  to 
carry  into  effect.  Notwithstanding  all  my  precautions, 
the  moment  has  now  arrived  when  these  points  must  be 
discussed.  It  is  true  the  question  of  the  women  and 
children  has  been  already  settled,  but  the  inquiry  con- 
cerning the  magistrates  must  be  pursued  quite  afresh. 
In  describing  them,  we  said,  if  you  recollect,  that,  in 
order  to  place  their  patriotism  beyond  the  reach  of  sus- 
picion, they  must  be  tested  by  pleasure  and  by  pain,  and 
proved  never  to  have  deserted  their  principles  in  the 
midst  of  toil  and  danger  and  every  vicissitude  of  fortune, 
'Plato's  Republic,  Book  VI.  p.  502  D. 


PLATO  187 

on  pain  of  forfeiting  their  position  if  their  powers  of 
endurance  fail;  and  that  whoever  comes  forth  from  the 
trial  without  a  flaw,  like  gold  tried  in  the  fire,  must  be 
appointed  to  ofl^ce,  and  receive,  during  life  and  after 
death,  privileges  and  rewards.  This  was  pretty  nearly 
the  drift  of  our  language,  which,  from  fear  of  awakening 
the  question  now  pending,  turned  aside  and  hid  its 
face." 

''Your  account  is  quite  correct,"  he  said;  ^'I  remember 
perfectly." 

''Yes,  my  friend,  I  shrank  from  making  assertions 
which  I  have  since  hazarded;  but  now  let  me  venture 
upon  this  declaration,  that  we  must  make  the  most 
perfect  philosophers  guardians." 

''We  hear  you,"  he  repUed. 

"Now  consider  what  a  small  supply  of  these  men  you 
will,  in  all  probability,  find.  For  the  various  members 
of  that  character,  which  we  described  as  essential  to 
philosophers,  will  seldom  grow  incorporate:  in  most 
cases  that  character  grows  disjointed." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  are  aware  that  persons  endowed  with  a  quick 
comprehension,  a  good  memory,  sagacity,  acuteness, 
and  their  attendant  qualities,  do  not  readily  grow  up  to 
be  at  the  same  time  so  noble  and  lofty-minded,  as  to 
consent  to  live  a  regular,  calm,  and  steady  life:  on  the 
contrary,  such  persons  are  drifted  by  their  acuteness 
hither  and  thither,  and  all  steadiness  vanishes  from  their 
life." 

"True." 

"On  the  other  hand,  those  steady  and  invariable 
characters,  whose  trustiness  makes  one  anxious  to 
employ  them,  and  who  in  war  are  slow  to  take  alarm, 


188       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

behave  in  the  same  way  when  pursuing  their  studies; 
that  is  to  say,  they  are  torpid  and  stupid,  as  if  they  were 
benumbed,  and  are  constantly  dozing  and  yawning, 
whenever  they  have  to  toil  at  anything  of  the  kind." 

'That  is  true." 

''But  we  declare  that,  unless  a  person  possesses  a  pretty 
fair  amount  of  both  qualifications,  he  must  be  debarred 
all  access  to  the  strictest  education,  to  honor,  and  to 
government." 

"We  are  right." 

"Then  do  you  not  anticipate  a  scanty  supply  of  such 
characters?" 

"Most  assuredly  I  do." 

"Hence  we  must  not  be  content  with  testing  their 
behavior  in  the  toils,  dangers,  and  pleasures,  which  we 
mentioned  before ;  but  we  must  go  on  to  try  them  in  ways 
which  we  then  omitted,  exercising  them  in  a  variety  of 
studies,  and  observing  whether  their  character  will  be 
able  to  support  the  highest  subjects,  or  whether  it  will 
flinch  from  the  trial,  like  those  who  flinch  under  other 
circumstances." 

"No  doubt  it  is  proper  to  examine  them  in  this  way. 
But  pray  which  do  you  mean  by  the  highest  subjects?" 

"I  presume  you  remember,  that,  after  separating  the 
soul  into  three  specific  parts,  we  deduced  the  several 
natures  of  justice,  temperance,  fortitude,  and  wisdom?" 

"Why,  if  I  did  not  remember,  I  should  deserve  not  to 
hear  the  rest  of  the  discussion." 

"Do  you  also  remember  the  remark  which  preceded 
that  deduction?" 

"Pray,  what  was  it?" 

"We  remarked,  I  believe,  that  to  obtain  the  best 
possible  view  of  the  question,  we  should  have  to  take  a 


PLATO  189 

different  and  a  longer  route,  which  would  bring  us  to  a 
thorough  insight  into  the  subject:  still  that  it  would  be 
possible  to  subjoin  a  demonstration  of  the  question, 
flowing  from  our  previous  conclusions.  Thereupon  you 
said  that  such  a  demonstration  would  satisfy  you;  and 
then  followed  those  investigations  which,  to  my  own 
mind,  were  deficient  in  exactness;  but  you  can  tell  me 
whether  they  contented  you." 

'Well,  to  speak  for  myself,  I  thought  them  fair  in 
point  of  measure;  and  certainly  the  rest  of  the  party 
held  the  same  opinion." 

'^But,  miy  friend,  no  measure  of  such  a  subject,  which 
falls  perceptibly  short  of  the  truth,  can  be  said  to  be 
quite  fair,  for  nothing  imperfect  is  a  measure  of  any- 
thing: though  people  sometimes  fancy  that  enough  has 
been  done,  and  that  there  is  no  call  for  further  in- 
vestigation." 

''Yes,"  he  said,  "that  is  a  very  common  habit,  and 
arises  from  indolence." 

"Yes,  but  it  is  a  habit  remarkably  undesirable  in  the 
guardian  of  a  state  and  its  laws." 

"So  I  should  suppose." 

"That  being  the  case,  my  friend,  such  a  person  must  go 
round  by  that  longer  route,  and  must  labor  as  devotedly 
in  his  studies  as  in  his  bodily  exercises.  Otherwise,  as 
we  were  saying  just  now,  he  will  never  reach  the  goal  of 
that  highest  science,  which  is  most  peculiarly  his  own." 

"What!"  he  exclaimed,  "are  not  these  the  highest? 
Is  there  still  something  higher  than  justice  and  those 
other  things  which  we  have  discussed?" 

"Even  so,"  I  replied;  "and  here  we  must  not  con- 
template a  rude  outline,  as  we  have  been  doing:  on  the 
contrary,  we  must  be  satisfied  with  nothing  short  of  the 


190       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

most  complete  elaboration.  For  would  it  not  be  ridiculous 
to  exert  one's  self  on  other  subjects  of  small  value,  taking 
all  imaginable  pains  to  bring  them  to  the  most  exact 
and  spotless  perfection;  and  at  the  same  time  to  ignore 
the  claim  of  the  highest  subjects  to  a  corresponding 
exactitude  of  the  highest  order?" 

'The  sentiment  is  a  very  just  one.  But  do  you  sup- 
pose that  any  one  would  let  you  go  without  asking  what 
that  science  is  which  you  call  the  highest,  and  of  what  it 
treats?" 

''Certainly  not,"  I  replied;  "so  put  the  question  your- 
self. Assuredly  you  have  heard  the  answer  many  a 
time;  but  at  this  moment  either  you  have  forgotten  it, 
or  else  you  intend  to  find  me  employment  by  raising 
objections.  I  incline  to  the  latter  opinion;  for  you  have 
often  been  told  that  the  essential  Form  of  the  Good  (?5  rod 
aya6ov  IBea)  is  the  highest  object  of  science,  and  that  this 
essence,  by  blending  with  just  things  and  all  other  created 
objects,  renders  them  useful  and  advantageous.  And  at 
this  moment  you  can  scarcely  doubt  that  I  am  going  to 
assert  this,  and  to  assert,  besides,  that  we  are  not  suffi- 
ciently acquainted  with  this  essence.  And  if  so, — if,  I 
say,  we  know  everything  else  perfectly,  without  knowing 
this, — you  are  aware  that  it  will  profit  us  nothing;  just  as 
it  would  be  equally  profitless  to  possess  everything  with- 
out possessing  what  is  good.  Or  do  you  imagine  it  would 
be  a  gain  to  possess  all  possessible  things,  with  the  single 
exception  of  things  good;  or  to  apprehend  every  con- 
ceivable object,  without  apprehending  what  is  good, — 
in  other  words,  to  be  destitute  of  every  good  and  beautiful 
conception?" 

"Not  I,  believe  me." 

"Moreover,  you  doubtless  know  besides,  that  the  chief 


PLATO  191 

good  is  supposed  by  the  multitude  to  be  pleasure, — by 
the  more  enlightened,  insight?" 

''Of  course  I  know  that." 

''And  you  are  aware,  my  friend,  that  the  advocates 
of  this  latter  opinion  are  unable  to  explain  what  they 
mean  by  insight,  and  are  compelled  at  last  to  explain 
it  as  insight  into  that  which  is  good." 

"Yes,  they  are  in  a  ludicrous  difficulty." 

"They  certainly  are:  since  they  reproach  us  with 
ignorance  of  that  which  is  good,  and  then  speak  to  us  the 
next  moment  as  if  we  knew  what  it  was.  For  they  tell 
us  that  the  chief  good  is  insight  into  good,  assuming 
that  we  understand  their  meaning,  as  soon  as  they  have 
uttered  the  term  'good.'  " 

"It  is  perfectly  true." 

"Again:  are  not  those,  whose  definition  identifies 
pleasure  with  good,  just  as  much  infected  with  error  as 
the  preceding?  For  they  are  forced  to  admit  the  ex- 
istence of  evil  pleasures,  are  they  not?" 

"Certainly  they  are." 

"From  which  it  follows,  I  should  suppose,  that  they 
must  admit  the  same  thing  to  be  both  good  and  evil. 
Does  it  not?" 

"Certainly  it  does." 

"Then  is  it  not  evident  that  this  is  a  subject  often  and 
severely  disputed?" 

"Doubtless  it  is." 

"Once  more:  is  it  not  evident,  that  though  many 
persons  would  be  ready  to  do  and  seem  to  do,  or  to 
possess  and  seem  to  possess,  what  seems  just  and 
beautiful,  without  really  being  so;  yet,  when  you  come 
to  things  good,  no  one  is  content  to  acquire  what  only 
seems  such;  on  the  contrary,  everybody  seeks  the  reality, 


192       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

and  semblances  are  here,  if  nowhere  else,  treated  with 
universal  contempt  ?'' 

'^Yes,  that  is  quite  evident.'^ 

"This  good,  then,  which  every  soul  pursues,  as  the  end 
of  all  its  actions,  divining  its  existence,  but  perplexed 
and  unable  to  apprehend  satisfactorily  its  nature,  or  to 
enjoy  that  steady  confidence  in  relation  to  it  which  it 
does  enjoy  in  relation  to  other  things,  and  therefore 
doomed  to  forfeit  any  advantage  which  it  might  have 
derived  from  those  same  things; — are  we  to  maintain  that, 
on  a  subject  of  such  overwhelming  importance,  the  bhnd- 
ness  we  have  described  is  a  desirable  feature  in  the 
character  of  those  best  members  of  the  state  in  whose 
hands  everything  is  to  be  placed?" 

"Most  certainly  not.'' 

"At  any  rate,  if  it  be  not  known  in  what  way  just 
things  and  beautiful  things  come  to  be  also  good,  I 
imagine  that  such  things  will  not  possess  a  very  valuable 
guardian  in  the  person  of  him  who  is  ignorant  on  this 
point.  And  I  surmise  that  none  will  know  the  just  and 
the  beautiful  satisfactorily  till  he  knows  the  good." 

"You  are  right  in  your  surmises." 

"Then  will  not  the  arrangement  of  our  constitution  be 
perfect,  provided  it  be  overlooked  by  a  guardian  who  is 
scientifically  acquainted  with  these  subjects?" 

"  Unquestionably  it  will." 

THE  IDEA  OF  THE  GOOD  AS  THE  SOURCE  OF  TRUTH  AND  OP 
REALITY 

"Pray,"*  Socrates,  do  you  assert  the  chief  good  to  be 

science  or  pleasure  or  something  different  from  either?" 

"Ho,  ho,  my  friend!    I  saw  long  ago  that  you  would 

*  Plato's  Republic,  p.  506  B. 


PLATO  193 

certainly  not  put  up  with  the  opinionjg  of  other  people 
on  these  subjects.'' 

'^Why,  Socrates,  it  appears  to  me  to  be  positively 
wrong  in  one  who  has  devoted  so  much  time  to  these 
questions,  to  be  able  to  state  the  opinions  of  others, 
without  being  able  to  state  his  own." 

^'Well,"  I  said,  ''do  you  think  it  right  to  speak  with 
an  air  of  information  on  subjects  on  which  one  is  not 
well  informed?" 

''Certainly  not  with  an  air  of  information;  but  I  think 
it  right  to  be  wilUng  to  state  one's  opinion  for  what  it  is 
worth." 

"Well,  but  have  you  not  noticed  that  opinions  divorced 
from  science  are  all  ill-favored?  At  the  best  they  are 
blind.  Or  do  you  conceive  that  those  who,  unaided  by  the 
pure  reason,  entertain  a  correct  opinion,  are  at  all  superior 
to  blind  men,  who  manage  to  keep  the  straight  path?" 

"Not  at  all  superior,"  he  replied. 

"Then  is  it  your  desire  to  contemplate  objects  that  are 
ill-favored,  blind,  and  crooked,  when  it  is  in  your  power 
to  learn  from  other  people  about  bright  and  beautiful 
things?" 

"I  implore  you,  Socrates,"  cried  Glaucon,  "not  to 
hang  back,  as  if  you  had  come  to  the  end.  We  shall  be 
content  even  if  you  only  discuss  the  subject  of  the  chief 
good  in  the  style  in  which  you  discussed  justice,  temper- 
ance, and  the  rest." 

"Yes,  my  friend,  and  I  hkewise  should  be  thoroughly 
content.  But  I  distrust  my  own  powers,  and  I  feel 
afraid  that  my  awkward  zeal  will  subject  me  to  ridicule. 
No,  my  good  sirs:  let  us  put  aside,  for  the  present  at  any 
rate,  all  inquiry  into  the  real  nature  of  the  chief  good. 
For,  methinks,  it  is  beyond  the  measure  of  this  our 


194       SOURCE  BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

enterprise  to  find  the  way  to  what  is,  after  all,  only  my 
present  opinion  on  the  subject.  But  I  am  willing  to 
talk  to  you  about  that  which  appears  to  be  an  offshoot 
of  the  chief  good,  and  bears  the  strongest  resemblance 
to  it,  provided  it  is  also  agreeable  to  you;  but  if  it  is  not, 
I  will  let  it  alone." 

''Nay,  tell  us  about  it,"  he  replied.  ''You  shall  remain 
in  our  debt  for  an  account  of  the  parent." 

"I  wish  that  /  could  pay,  and  you  receive,  the  parent 
sum,  instead  of  having  to  content  ourselves  with  the 
interest  springing  from  it.  However,  here  I  present  you 
with  the  fruit  and  scion  of  the  essential  good.  Only 
take  care  that  I  do  not  involuntarily  impose  upon  you  by 
handing  in  a  forged  account  of  this  offspring." 

"We  will  take  all  the  care  we  can;  only  proceed." 

"I  will  do  so,  as  soon  as  we  have  come  to  a  settlement 
together,  and  you  have  been  reminded  of  certain  state- 
ments made  in  a  previous  part  of  our  conversation,  and 
renewed  before  now  again  and  again." 

"Pray  what  statements?" 

"In  the  course  of  the  discussion  we  have  distinctly 
maintained  the  existence  of  a  multiplicity  of  things  that 
are  beautiful,  and  good,  and  so  on." 

"True,  we  have." 

"And  also  the  existence  of  an  essential  beauty,  and  an 
essential  good,  and  so  on; — reducing  all  those  things 
which  before  we  regarded  as  manifold,  to  a  single  form 
and  a  single  entity  in  each  case,  and  addressing  each 
as  an  independent  being." 

"Just  so." 

"And  we  assert  that  the  former  address  themselves  to 
the  eye,  and  not  to  the  pure  reason;  whereas  the  forms 
address  themselves  to  the  reason,  and  not  to  the  eye." 


PLATO  195 

^^Certainly.'^ 

'^Now  with  what  part  of  ourselves  do  we  see  visible 
objects?" 

^^With  the  eyesight." 

'In  the  same  way  we  hear  sounds  with  the  hearing, 
and  perceive  everything  sensible  with  the  other  senses, 
do  we  not?" 

^'Certainly." 

'Then  have  you  noticed  with  what  transcendent 
costliness  the  architect  of  the  senses  has  wrought  out 
the  faculty  of  seeing  and  being  seen?" 

''Not  exactly,"  he  replied. 

*'Well,  then,  look  at  it  in  this  light.  Is  there  any 
other  kind  of  thing  which  the  ear  and  the  voice  require 
to  enable  the  one  to  hear,  and  the  other  to  be  heard,  in 
the  absence  of  which  third  thing  the  one  will  not  hear, 
and  the  other  will  not  be  heard?" 

"No,  there  is  not." 

"And  I  believe  that  very  few,  if  any,  of  the  other 
senses  require  any  such  third  thing.  Can  you  mention 
one  that  does?" 

"No,  I  cannot." 

"But  do  you  not  perceive  that,  in  the  case  of  vision 
and  visible  objects,  there  is  a  demand  for  something 
additional?" 

"How  so?" 

"Why,  granting  that  vision  is  seated  in  the  eye,  and 
that  the  owner  of  it  is  attempting  to  use  it,  and  that  color 
is  resident  in  the  objects,  still,  unless  there  be  present  a 
third  kind  of  thing,  devoted  to  this  especial  purpose,  you 
are  aware  that  the  eyesight  will  see  nothing,  and  the 
colors  will  be  invisible." 

"Pray  what  is  the  third  thing  to  which  you  refer?" 


196       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

"Of  course  I  refer  to  what  you  call  light. '^ 

''You  are  right." 

''Hence  it  appears,  that  of  all  the  pairs  aforesaid,  the 
sense  of  sight,  and  the  faculty  of  being  seen,  are  coupled 
by  the  noblest  link,  whose  nature  is  anything  but  in- 
significant, unless  light  is  an  ignoble  thing." 

''No,  indeed;  it  is  very  far  from  being  ignoble." 

"To  whom,  then,  of  the  gods  in  heaven  can  you  refer 
as  the  author  and  dispenser  of  this  blessing?  And 
whose  light  is  it  that  enables  our  sight  to  see  so  excellently 
well,  and  makes  visible  objects  appear?" 

"There  can  be  but  one  opinion  on  the  subject,"  he 
repKed:  "your  question  evidently  alludes  to  the  sun." 

"Then  the  relation  subsisting  between  the  eyesight  and 
this  deity  is  of  the  following  nature,  is  it  not?" 

"Describe  it." 

"Neither  the  sight  itself,  nor  the  eye,  which  is  the  seat 
of  sight,  can  be  identified  with  the  sun." 

"Certainly  not." 

"And  yet,  of  all  the  organs  of  sensation,  the  eye, 
me  thinks,  bears  the  closest  resemblance  to  the  sun." 

"Yes,  quite  so." 

"Further,  is  not  the  faculty  which  the  eye  possesses 
dispensed  to  it  from  the  sun,  and  held  by  it  as  something 
adventitious?" 

"Certainly  it  is." 

"Then  is  it  not  also  true,  that  the  sun,  though  not 
identical  with  sight,  is  nevertheless  the  cause  of  sight, 
and  is  moreover  seen  by  its  aid?" 

"Yes,  quite  true." 

"Well  then,"  I  continued,  "believe  that  I  meant  the 
sun,  when  I  spoke  of  the  offspring  of  the  chief  good,  be- 
gotten by  it  in  a  certain  resemblance  to  itself, — that  is  to 


PLATO  197 

say,  bearing  the  same  relation  in  the  visible  world  to 
sight  and  its  objects,  which  the  chief  good  bears  in  the 
intellectual  world  to  pure  reason  and  its  objects." 

"How  so?  Be  so  good  as  to  explain  it  to  me  more  at 
length." 

''Are  you  aware,  that  whenever  a  person  makes  an 
end  of  looking  at  objects,  upon  w^hich  the  light  of  day  is 
shedding  color,  and  looks  instead  at  objects  colored  by 
the  light  of  the  moon  and  stars,  his  eyes  grow  dim  and 
appear  almost  blind,  as  if  they  were  not  the  seat  of  dis- 
tinct vision?" 

''I  am  fully  aware  of  it." 

"But  whenever  the  same  person  looks  at  objects  on 
which  the  sun  is  shining,  these  very  eyes,  I  believe,  see 
clearly,  and  are  evidently  the  seat  of  distinct  vision?" 

''Unquestionably  it  is  so." 

"Just  in  the  same  way  understand  the  condition  of  the 
soul  to  be  as  follows :  Whenever  it  has  fastened  upon  an 
object,  over  which  truth  and  real  existence  are  shining, 
it  seizes  that  object  by  an  act  of  reason,  and  knows  it, 
and  thus  proves  itself  to  be  possessed  of  reason:  but 
whenever  it  has  fixed  upon  objects  that  are  blent  with 
darkness, — the  world  of  birth  and  death, — then  it  rests  in 
opinion,  and  its  sight  grows  dim,  as  its  opinions  shift 
backward  and  forward,  and  it  has  the  appearance  of 
being  destitute  of  reason." 

"True,  it  has." 

"Now,  this  pow^r,  which  supplies  the  objects  of  real 
knowledge  with  the  truth  that  is  in  them,  and  which 
renders  to  him  who  knows  them  the  faculty  of  knowing 
them,  you  must  consider  to  be  the  essential  Form  of 
Good  (Trjv  Tou  cuyadov  ISeav),  and  you  must  regard  it  as 
the  origin  of  science,  and  of  truth,  so  far  as  the  latter 


198       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

comes  within  the  range  of  knowledge:  and  though 
knowledge  and  truth  are  both  very  beautiful  things, 
you  will  be  right  in  looking  upon  good  as  something 
distinct  from  them,  and  even  more  beautiful.  And 
just  as,  in  the  analogous  case,  it  is  right  to  regard  light 
and  vision  as  resembling  the  sun,  but  wrong  to  identify 
them  with  the  sun;  so,  in  the  case  of  science  and  truth, 
it  is  right  to  regard  both  of  them  as  resembling  good, 
but  wrong  to  identify  either  of  them  with  good;  be- 
cause, on  the  contrary,  the  quality  of  the  good  ought 
to  have  a  still  higher  value  set  upon  it." 

'That  implies  an  inexpressible  beauty,  if  it  not  only  is 
the  source  of  science  and  truth,  but  also  surpasses  them  in 
beauty;  for,  I  presume,  you  do  not  mean  by  it  pleasure." 

''Hush!"  I  exclaimed,  "not  a  word  of  that.  But  you 
had  better  examine  the  illustration  further,  as  follows." 

"Show  me  how." 

"I  think  you  will  admit  that  the  sun  ministers  to 
visible  objects,  not  only  the  faculty  of  being  seen,  but 
also  their  vitality,  growth,  and  nutriment,  though  it  is 
not  itself  equivalent  to  vitality." 

"Of  course  it  is  not." 

"Then  admit  that,  in  like  manner,  the  objects  of 
knowledge  not  only  derive  from  the  good  the  gift  of  being 
known,  but  are  further  endowed  by  it  with  a  real  and 
essential  existence;  though  the  good,  far  from  being 
identical  with  real  existence,  actually  transcends  it  in 
dignity  and  power." 

Hereupon  Glaucon  exclaimed  with  a  very  amusing  air, 
"Good  heavens!  what  a  miraculous  superiority!" 

"Well,"  I  said,  "you  are  the  person  to  blame,  because 
you  compel  me  to  state  my  opinions  on  the  subject." 

"Nay,  let  me  entreat  you  not  to  stop,  till  you  have  at 


PLATO  199 

all  events  gone  over  again  3^our  similitude  of  the  sun,  if 
you  are  leaving  anything  out.'' 

''Well,  to  say  the  truth,  I  am  leaving  out  a  great  deal." 

'Then  pray  do  not  omit  even  a  trifle." 

"I  fancy  I  shall  leave  much  unsaid;  however,  if  I  can 
help  it  under  the  circumstances,  I  will  not  intentionally 
make  any  omission." 

'Tray  do  not." 

REALITY   AND    APPEARANCE KNOWLEDGE   AND    OPINION 

^'Now  ^  understand  that,  according  to  us,  there  are  two 
powers  reigning,  one  over  an  intellectual,  and  the  other 
over  a  visible  region  and  class  of  objects ; — if  I  were  to  use 
the  term  'firmament'  you  might  think  I  was  playing  on 
the  word.  Well,  then,  are  you  in  possession  of  these  as 
two  kinds, — one  visible,  the  other  intellectual?" 

"Yes,  I  am." 

"Suppose  you  take  a  line  divided  into  two  unequal 
parts, — one  to  represent  the  visible  class  of  objects,  the 
other  the  intellectual, — and  divide  each  part  again  into 
two  segments  on  the  same  scale.  Then,  if  you  make  the 
lengths  of  the  segments  represent  degrees  of  distinctness 
or  indistinctness,  one  of  the  two  segments  of  the  part 
which  stands  for  the  visible  world  will  represent  all 
images:  meaning,  by  images,  first  of  all,  shadows;  and, 
in  the  next  place,  reflections  in  water,  and  in  close- 
grained,  smooth,  bright  substances,  and  everything  of  the 
kind,  if  you  understand  me." 

"Yes,  I  do  understand." 

"Let  the  other  segment  stand  for  the  real  objects  cor- 
responding to  these  images, — namely,  the  animals  about 
us,  and  the  whole  world  of  nature  and  of  art." 

6  Plato's  Republic,  p.  509  D. 


200       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

^Tery  good." 

"Would  you  also  consent  to  say  that,  with  reference  to 
this  class,  there  is,  in  point  of  truth  and  untruthfulness, 
the  same  distinction  between  the  copy  and  the  original, 
that  there  is  between  what  is  matter  of  opinion  and  what 
is  matter  of  knowledge?" 

"Certainly  I  should." 

"Then  let  us  proceed  to  consider  how  we  must  divide 
that  part  of  the  whole  line  which  represents  the  in- 
tellectual world." 

"How  must  we  do  it?" 

"Thus:  one  segment  of  it  will  represent  what  the  soul 
is  compelled  to  investigate  by  the  aid  of  the  segments  of 
the  other  part,  which  it  employs  as  images,  starting  from 
hypotheses,  and  travelUng  not  to  a  first  principle,  but 
to  a  conclusion.  The  other  segment  will  represent  the 
objects  of  the  soul,  as  it  makes  its  way  from  an  hypothesis 
to  a  first  principle  which  is  not  hypothetical,  imaided 
by  those  images  which  the  former  division  employs,  and 
shaping  its  journey  by  the  sole  help  of  real  essential 
forms." 

"I  have  not  understood  your  description  so  well  as  I 
could  wish." 

"Then  we  will  try  again.  You  will  understand  me 
more  easily  when  I  have  made  some  previous  observa- 
tions. I  think  you  know  that  the  students  of  subjects 
like  geometry  and  calculation,  assume  by  way  of  ma- 
terials, in  each  investigation,  all  odd  and  even  numbers, 
figures,  three  kinds  of  angles,  and  other  similar  data. 
These  things  they  are  supposed  to  know,  and  having 
adopted  them  as  hypotheses,  they  decline  to  give  any 
accoimt  of  them,  either  to  themselves  or  to  others,  on 
the  assumption  that  they  are  self-evident;  and,  making 


PLATO  201 

these  their  starting  point,  they  proceed  to  travel  through 
the  remainder  of  the  subject,  and  arrive  at  last,  with 
perfect  unanimity,  at  that  which  they  have  proposed 
as  the  object  of  investigation." 

''I  am  perfectly  aw^are  of  the  fact,"  he  replied. 

'Then  you  also  know  that  they  summon  to  their  aid 
visible  forms,  and  discourse  about  them,  though  their 
thoughts  are  busy  not  with  these  forms,  but  with  their 
originals,  and  though  they  discourse  not  with  a  view  to 
the  particular  square  and  diameter  which  they  draw, 
but  with  a  view  to  the  absolute  square  and  the  absolute 
diameter,  and  so  on.  For  while  they  employ  by  way  of 
images  those  figures  and  diagrams  aforesaid,  which  again 
have  their  shadows  and  images  in  water,  they  are  really 
endeavoring  to  behold  those  abstractions  which  a  person 
can  only  see  with  the  eye  of  thought." 

'True." 

'This,  then,  was  the  class  of  things  which  I  called 
intellectual;  but  I  said  that  the  soul  is  constrained  to 
employ  hypotheses  while  engaged  in  the  investigation  of 
them, — not  travelling  to  a  first  principle  (because  it  is 
unable  to  step  out  of,  and  mount  above,  its  hypotheses), 
but  using,  as  images,  just  the  copies  that  are  presented 
by  things  below, — which  copies,  as  compared  with  the 
originals,  are  vulgarly  esteemed  distinct  and  valued 
accordingly." 

"I  understand  you  to  be  speaking  of  the  subject-matter 
of  the  various  branches  of  geometry  and  the  kindred 
arts." 

"Again,  by  the  second  segment  of  the  intellectual 
world  understand  me  to  mean  all  that  the  mere  reason- 
ing process  apprehends  by  the  force  of  dialectic,  when  it 
avails  itself  of  hypotheses  not  as  first  principles,  but  as 


202       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

genuine  hypotheses,  that  is  to  say,  as  stepping-stones 
and  impulses,  whereby  it  may  force  its  way  up  to  some- 
thing that  is  not  hypothetical,  and  arrive  at  the  first 
principle  of  everything,  and  seize  it  in  its  grasp;  which 
done,  it  turns  round,  and  takes  hold  of  that  which  takes 
hold  of  this  first  principle,  till  at  last  it  comes  down  to  a 
conclusion,  calling  in  the  aid  of  no  sensible  object  what- 
ever, but  simply  employing  abstract,  seK-subsisting 
forms,  and  terminating  in  the  same." 

^'I  do  not  understand  you  so  well  as  I  could  wish,  for  I 
believe  you  to  be  describing  an  arduous  task;  but  at  any 
rate  I  understand  that  you  wush  to  declare  distinctly, 
that  the  field  of  real  existence  and  pure  intellect,  as  con- 
templated by  the  science  of  dialectic,  is  more  certain  than 
the  field  investigated  by  what  are  called  the  arts,  in  which 
hypotheses  constitute  first  principles,  which  the  students 
are  compelled,  it  is  true,  to  contemplate  with  the  mind 
and  not  with  the  senses;  but,  at  the  same  time,  as  they 
do  not  come  back,  in  the  course  of  inquiry,  to  a  first 
principle,  but  push  on  from  hypothetical  premises,  you 
think  that  they  do  not  exercise  pure  reason  on  the 
questions  that  engage  them,  although  taken  in  connection 
with  a  first  principle  these  questions  come  within  the 
domain  of  the  pure  reason.  And  I  believe  you  apply 
the  term  understanding,  not  pure  reason,  to  the  mental 
habit  of  such  people  as  geometricians, — regarding  under- 
standing as  something  intermediate  between  opinion  and 
pure  reason." 

^'You  have  taken  in  my  meaning  most  satisfactorily; 
and  I  beg  you  will  accept  these  four  mental  states,  as 
corresponding  to  the  four  segments, — namely,  pure 
reason  corresponding  to  the  highest,  understanding  to 
the  second,  belief  to  the  third,  and  conjecture  to  the  last; 


PLATO  203 

and  pray  arrange  them  in  gradation,  and  believe  them  to 
partake  of  distinctness  in  a  degree  corresponding  to  the 
truth  of  their  respective  objects." 

"1  understand  you,"  said  he.  ''I  quite  agree  with  you, 
and  will  arrange  them  as  you  desire." 

THE  ALLEGORY   OF  THE  DEN SHADOWS   AND   REALITIES 

''Now  6  then,"  I  proceeded  to  say,  "go  on  to  compare 
our  natural  condition,  so  far  as  education  and  ignorance 
are  concerned,  to  a  state  of  things  hke  the  following. 
Imagine  a  number  of  men  living  in  an  underground 
cavernous  chamber,  with  an  entrance  open  to  the  light, 
extending  along  the  entire  length  of  the  cavern,  in  which 
they  have  been  confined,  from  their  childhood,  with 
their  legs  and  necks  so  shackled  that  they  are  obliged 
to  sit  still  and  look  straight  forward,  because  their 
chains  render  it  impossible  for  them  to  turn  their  heads 
round;  and  imagine  a  bright  fire  burning  some  way  off, 
above  and  behind  them,  and  an  elevated  roadway  passing 
between  the  fire  and  the  prisoners,  with  a  low  wall  built 
along  it,  hke  the  screens  which  conjurers  put  up  in  front 
of  their  audience,  and  above  which  they  exhibit  their 
wonders." 

''I  have  it,"  he  replied. 

''Also  figure  to  yourself  a  number  of  persons  walking 
behind  this  wall,  and  carrying  with  them  statues  of  men, 
and  images  of  other  animals,  wrought  in  wood  and  stone 
and  all  kinds  of  materials,  together  with  various  other  ar- 
ticles, which  overtop  the  wall;  and,  as  you  might  expect, 
let  some  of  the  passers-by  be  talking,  and  others  silent." 

"You  are  describing  a  strange  scene,  and  strange 
prisoners." 

•  Plato's  Republic,  Book  VII.  p.  514  D. 


204       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

"They  resemble  us/'  I  replied.  'Tor  let  me  ask  you, 
in  the  first  place,  whether  persons  so  confined  could  have 
seen  anything  of  themselves  or  of  each  other,  beyond  the 
shadows  thrown  by  the  fire  upon  the  part  of  the  cavern 
facing  them?" 

"Certainly  not,  if  you  suppose  them  to  have  been 
compelled  all  their  lifetime  to  keep  their  heads  unmoved." 

"And  is  not  their  knowledge  of  the  things  carried  past 
them  equally  limited?" 

"Unquestionably  it  is." 

"And  if  they  were  able  to  converse  with  one  another, 
do  you  not  think  that  they  would  be  in  the  habit  of  giv- 
ing names  to  the  objects  which  they  saw  before  them?" 

"Doubtless  they  would." 

"Again:  if  their  prison-house  returned  an  echo  from 
the  part  facing  them,  whenever  one  of  the  passers-by 
opened  his  lips,  to  what,  let  me  ask  you,  could  they 
refer  the  voice,  if  not  to  the  shadow  which  was  passing?" 

"Unquestionably  they  would  refer  it  to  that." 

"Then  surely  such  persons  would  hold  the  shadows  of 
those  manufactured  articles  to  be  the  only  realities." 

"Without  doubt  they  would." 

"Now  consider  what  would  happen  if  the  course  of 
nature  brought  them  a  release  from  their  fetters,  and  a 
remedy  for  their  foolishness,  in  the  following  manner: 
Let  us  suppose  that  one  of  them  has  been  released,  and 
compelled  suddenly  to  stand  up,  and  turn  his  neck  roimd 
and  walk  with  open  eyes  toward  the  light;  and  let  us 
suppose  that  he  goes  through  all  these  actions  with  pain, 
and  that  the  dazzling  splendor  renders  him  incapable 
of  discerning  those  objects  of  which  he  used  formerly  to 
see  the  shadows.  What  answer  should  you  expect  him 
to  make,  if  some  one  were  to  tell  him  that  in  those  days 


PLATO  205 

he  was  watching  foolish  phantoms,  but  that  now  he  is 
somewhat  nearer  to  reaUty,  and  is  turned  toward  things 
more  real,  and  sees  more  correctly;  above  all,  if  he  were 
to  point  out  to  him  the  several  objects  that  are  passing 
by,  and  question  him,  and  compel  him  to  answer  what 
they  are?  Should  you  not  expect  him  to  be  puzzled, 
and  to  regard  his  old  visions  as  truer  than  the  objects 
now  forced  upon  his  notice?" 

''Yes,  much  truer." 

''And  if  he  were  further  compelled  to  gaze  at  the  light 
itself,  would  not  his  eyes,  think  you,  be  distressed,  and 
would  he  not  shrink  and  turn  away  to  the  things  which 
he  could  see  distinctly,  and  consider  them  to  be  really 
clearer  than  the  things  pointed  out  to  him?" 

"Just  so." 

"And  if  some  one  were  to  drag  him  violently  up  the 
rough  and  steep  ascent  from  the  cavern,  and  refuse  to  let 
him  go  till  he  had  drawn  him  out  into  the  Ught  of  the 
sun,  would  he  not,  think  you,  be  vexed  and  indignant 
at  such  treatment,  and  on  reaching  the  hght,  would  he 
not  find  his  eyes  so  dazzled  by  the  glare  as  to  be  in- 
capable of  making  out  so  much  as  one  of  the  objects 
that  are  now  called  true?" 

"Yes,  he  would  find  it  so  at  first." 

"Hence,  I  suppose,  habit  will  be  necessary  to  enable 
him  to  perceive  objects  in  that  upper  world.  At  first 
he  will  be  most  successful  in  distinguishing  shadows; 
then  he  will  discern  the  reflections  of  men  and  other 
things  in  water,  and  afterward  the  realities;  and  after 
this  he  will  raise  his  eyes  to  encounter  the  light  of  the 
moon  and  stars,  finding  it  less  difficult  to  study  the 
heavenly  bodies  and  the  heaven  itself  by  night,  than 
the  sun  and  the  sun's  light  by  day." 


206       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

''Doubtless." 

''Last  of  all,  I  imagine,  he  will  be  able  to  observe  and 
contemplate  the  nature  of  the  sun,  not  as  it  appears  in 
water  or  on  alien  ground,  but  as  it  is  in  itself  in  its  own 
territory." 

"Of  course." 

"His  next  step  will  be  to  draw  the  conclusion,  that  the 
sun  is  the  author  of  the  seasons  and  the  years,  and  the 
guardian  of  all  things  in  the  visible  world,  and  in  a 
manner  the  cause  of  all  those  things  which  he  and  his 
companions  used  to  see." 

"Obviously,  this  will  be  his  next  step." 

"What  then?  When  he  recalls  to  mind  his  first 
habitation,  and  the  wisdom  of  the  place,  and  his  old 
fellow-prisoners,  do  you  not  think  he  will  congratulate 
himself  on  the  change,  and  pity  them?" 

"Assuredly  he  will." 

"And  if  it  was  their  practice  in  those  days  to  receive 
honor  and  commendations  one  from  another,  and  to 
give  prizes  to  him  who  had  the  keenest  eye  for  a  passing 
object,  and  who  remembered  best  all  that  used  to  pre- 
cede and  follow  and  accompany  it,  and  from  these  data 
divined  most  ably  what  was  going  to  come  next,  do  you 
fancy  that  he  will  covet  these  prizes,  and  envy  those 
who  receive  honor  and  exercise  authority  among  them? 
Do  you  not  rather  imagine  that  he  will  feel  what  Homer 
describes,  and  wish  extremely 

'  To  drudge  on  the  lands  of  a  master, 
Under  a  portionless  wight,' 

and  be  ready   to  go   through  anything,   rather   than 
entertain  those  opinions,  and  live  in  that  fashion?" 
"For  my  own  part,"  he  replied,  "I  am  quite  of  that 


PLATO  207 

opinion.  I  believe  he  would  consent  to  go  through 
anything  rather  than  live  in  that  way." 

''And  now  consider  what  would  happen  if  such  a  man 
were  to  descend  again  and  seat  himself  on  his  old  seat? 
Coming  so  suddenly  out  of  the  sun,  would  he  not  find 
his  eyes  bhnded  with  the  gloom  of  the  place?" 

''Certainly,  he  would." 

"And  if  he  were  forced  to  deliver  his  opinion  again, 
touching  the  shadows  aforesaid,  and  to  enter  the  lists 
against  those  who  had  always  been  prisoners,  while  his 
sight  continued  dim,  and  his  eyes  unsteady, — and  if  this 
process  of  initiation  lasted  a  considerable  time,  would 
he  not  be  made  a  laughing-stock,  and  would  it  not  be 
said  of  him,  that  he  had  gone  up  only  to  come  back  again 
with  his  eyesight  destroyed,  and  that  it  was  not  worth 
while  even  to  attempt  the  ascent?  And  if  any  one 
endeavored  to  set  them  free  and  carry  them  to  the  light, 
would  they  not  go  so  far  as  to  put  him  to  death,  if  they 
could  only  manage  to  get  him  into  their  power?" 

"Yes,  that  they  would." 

"Now  this  imaginary  case,  my  dear  Glaucon,  you  must 
apply  in  all  its  parts  to  our  former  statements,  by  com- 
paring the  region  which  the  eye  reveals  to  the  prison- 
house,  and  the  light  of  the  fire  therein  to  the  power  of  the 
sun :  and  if,  by  the  upward  ascent  and  the  contemplation 
of  the  upper  world,  you  understand  the  mounting  of  the 
soul  into  the  intellectual  region,  you  will  hit  the  tendency 
of  my  own  surmises,  since  you  desire  to  be  told  what 
they  are;  though,  indeed,  God  only  knows  whether  they 
are  correct.  But,  be  that  as  it  may,  the  view  which  I 
take  of  the  subject  is  to  the  following  effect:  In  the 
world  of  knowledge,  the  essential  Form  of  Good  (77  rod 
amadou  IBea)  is  the  limit  of  our  inquiries,  and  can  barely  be 


208       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

perceived;  but,  when  perceived,  we  cannot  help  conclud- 
ing that  it  is  in  every  case  the  source  of  all  that  is  bright 
and  beautiful, — in  the  visible  world  giving  birth  to  light 
and  its  master,  and  in  the  intellectual  world  dispensing, 
immediately  and  with  full  authority,  truth  and  reason; 
and  that,  whosoever  would  act  wisely,  either  in  private  or 
in  pubHc,  must  set  this  Form  of  Good  before  his  eyes." 

'To  the  best  of  my  power,"  said  he,  ''I  quite  agree  with 
you." 

'That  being  the  case,"  I  continued,  ''pray  agree  with 
me  on  another  point,  and  do  not  be  surprised  that  those 
who  have  climbed  so  high  are  unwilling  to  take  a  part  in 
the  affairs  of  men,  because  their  souls  are  ever  loath  to 
desert  that  upper  region.  For  how  could  it  be  other- 
wise, if  the  preceding  simile  is  indeed  a  correct  representa- 
tion of  their  case?" 

"True,  it  could  scarcely  be  otherwise." 

"Well:  do  you  think  it  a  marvellous  thing,  that  a 
person  who  has  just  quitted  the  contemplation  of  divine 
objects  for  the  study  of  human  infirmities  should  betray 
awkwardness,  and  appear  very  ridiculous,  when  with  his 
sight  still  dazed,  and  before  he  has  become  sufficiently 
habituated  to  the  darkness  that  reigns  around,  he  finds 
himself  compelled  to  contend  in  courts  of  law,  or  else- 
where, about  the  shadows  of  justice,  or  images  which 
throw  the  shadows,  and  to  enter  the  fists  in  questions 
involving  the  arbitrary  suppositions  entertained  by 
those  who  have  never  yet  had  a  glimpse  of  the  essential 
features  of  justice?" 

"No,  it  is  anything  but  marvellous." 

"Right:  for  a  sensible  man  will  recollect  that  the  eyes 
may  be  confused  in  two  distinct  ways  and  from  two 
distinct  causes — that  is  to  say,  by  sudden  transitions 


PLATO  209 

either  from  light  to  darkness,  or  from  darkness  to  Ught. 
And,  beUeving  the  same  idea  to  be  applicable  to  the  soul, 
whenever  such  a  person  sees  a  case  in  which  the  mind  is 
perplexed  and  unable  to  distinguish  objects,  he  will  not 
laugh  irrationally,  but  he  will  examine  whether  it  has 
just  quitted  a  brighter  life,  and  has  been  blinded  by  the 
novelty  of  darkness,  or  whether  it  has  come  from  the 
depths  of  ignorance  into  a  more  briUiant  life,  and  has 
been  dazzled  by  the  imusual  splendor;  and  not  till  then 
will  he  congratulate  the  one  upon  its  life  and  condition, 
and  compassionate  the  other;  and  if  he  chooses  to  laugh 
at  it,  such  laughter  will  be  less  ridiculous  than  that  which 
is  raised  at  the  expense  of  the  soul  that  has  descended 
from  the  light  of  a  higher  region." 

^'You  speak  with  great  judgment." 

''Hence,  if  this  be  true,  we  cannot  avoid  adopting  the 
behef,  that  the  real  nature  of  education  is  at  variance 
with  the  account  given  of  it  by  certain  of  its  professors, 
who  pretend,  I  believe,  to  infuse  into  the  mind  a  knowl- 
edge of  which  it  was  destitute,  just  as  sight  might  be 
instilled  nto  blinded  eyes." 

'True;  such  are  their  pretensions." 

''Whereas,  our  present  argimient  shows  us  that  there 
is  a  faculty  residing  in  the  soul  of  each  person,  and  an 
instrument  enabling  each  of  us  to  learn;  and  that,  just 
as  we  might  suppose  it  to  be  impossible  to  turn  the 
eye  round  from  darkness  to  light  without  turning  the 
whole  body,  so  must  this  faculty,  or  this  instrument,  be 
wheeled  round,  in  company  with  the  entire  soul,  from 
the  perishing  world,  until  it  be  enabled  to  endure  the 
contemplation  of  the  real  world  and  the  brightest  part 
thereof,  which,  according  to  us,  is  the  Form  of  Good. 
Am  I  not  right?" 


210       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

'Tou  are." 

''Hence/'  I  coiitinued,  ''this  very  process  of  revolu- 
tion must  give  rise  to  an  art,  teaching  in  what  way  the 
change  will  most  easily  and  most  effectually  be  brought 
about.  Its  object  will  not  be  to  generate  in  the  person 
the  power  of  seeing.  On  the  contrary,  it  assumes  that 
he  possesses  it,  though  he  is  turned  in  a  wrong  direction, 
and  does  not  look  toward  the  right  quarter;  and  its  aim 
is  to  remedy  this  defect." 

"So  it  would  appear." 

"Hence,  while,  on  the  one  hand,  the  other  so-called 
virtues  of  the  soul  seem  to  resemble  those  of  the  body, 
inasmuch  as  they  really  do  not  preexist  in  the  soul, 
but  are  formed  in  it  in  the  course  of  time  by  habit  and 
exercise;  the  virtue  of  wisdom,  on  the  other  hand,  does 
most  certainly  appertain,  as  it  would  appear,  to  a  more 
divine  substance,  which  never  loses  its  energy,  but  by 
change  of  position  becomes  useful  and  serviceable,  or 
else  remains  useless  and  injurious.  For  you  must,  ere 
this,  have  noticed  how  keen-sighted  are  the  puny  souls 
of  those  who  have  the  reputation  of  being  clever  but 
vicious,  and  how  sharply  they  see  through  the  things 
to  which  they  are  directed,  thus  proving  that  their 
powers  of  vision  are  by  no  means  feeble,  though  they 
have  been  compelled  to  become  the  servants  of  wicked- 
ness, so  that  the  more  sharply  they  see,  the  more  numer- 
ous are  the  evils  w^hich  they  work." 

"Yes,  indeed,  it  is  the  case." 

"But,"  I  proceeded,  "  if  from  earliest  childhood  these 
characters  had  been  shorn  and  stripped  of  those  leaden, 
earth-born  weights,  which  grow  and  cling  to  the  pleasures 
of  eating  and  gluttonous  enjojmients  of  a  similar  nature, 
and  keep  the  eye  of  the  soul  turned  upon  the  things 


PLATO  211 

below;  if,  I  repeat,  they  had"  been  released  from  these 
snares,  and  turned  round  to  look  at  objects  that  are  true, 
then  these  very  same  souls  of  these  very  same  men  would 
have  had  as  keen  an  eye  for  such  pursuits  as  they 
actually  have  for  those  in  which  they  are  now  engaged." 

''Yes,  probably  it  would  be  so." 

''Once  more :  is  it  not  also  probable,  or  rather  is  it  not  a 
necessary  corollary  to  our  previous  remarks,  that  neither 
those  who  are  uneducated  and  ignorant  of  truth,  nor 
those  who  are  suffered  to  linger  over  their  education  all 
their  life,  can  ever  be  competent  overseers  of  a  state, — 
the  former,  because  they  have  no  single  mark  in  life, 
which  they  are  to  constitute  the  end  and  aim  of  all  their 
conduct  both  in  private  and  in  public;  the  latter,  because 
they  will  not  act  without  compulsion,  fancying  that, 
while  yet  alive,  they  have  been  translated  to  the  islands 
of  the  blest." 

"That  is  true." 

"It  is,  therefore,  our  task,"  I  continued,  "to  constrain 
the  noblest  characters  in  our  colony  to  arrive  at  that 
science  which  we  formerly  pronounced  the  highest,  and 
to  set  eyes  upon  the  good,  and  to  mount  that  ascent  we 
spoke  of;  and,  when  they  have  mounted  and  looked  long 
enough,  we  must  take  care  to  refuse  them  that  liberty 
which  is  at  present  permitted  them." 

"Pray  what  is  that?" 

"The  liberty  of  staying  where  they  are,  and  refusing 
to  descend  again  to  those  prisoners,  or  partake  of  their 
toils  and  honors,  be  they  mean  or  be  they  exalted." 

"Then  are  we  to  do  them  a  wrong,  and  make  them  live 
a  life  that  is  worse  than  the  one  within  their  reach?" 

"You  have  again  forgotten,  my  friend,  that  the  law 
does  not  ask  itself  how  some  one  class  in  a  state  is  to  live 


212       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

extraordinarily  well.  On  the  contrary,  it  tries  to  bring 
about  this  result  in  the  entire  state;  for  which  purpose 
it  links  the  citizens  together  by  persuasion  and  by  con- 
straint, makes  them  share  with  one  another  the  benefit 
which  each  individual  can  contribute  to  the  common 
weal,  and  does  actually  create  men  of  this  exalted  char- 
acter in  the  state,  not  with  the  intention  of  letting  them 
go  each  on  his  own  way,  but  with  the  intention  of  turn- 
ing them  to  account  in  its  plans  for  the  consolidation  of 
the  state." 

'True,"  he  replied;  "1  had  forgotten." 

'Therefore  reflect,  Glaucon,  that  far  from  wronging 
the  future  philosophers  of  our  state,  we  shall  only  be 
treating  them  with  strict  justice,  if  we  put  them  under 
the  additional  obligation  of  watching  over  their  fellow- 
citizens,  and  taking  care  of  them.  .  .  .  And  in  this 
way  you  and  we  shall  find  that  the  life  of  the  state 
is  a  substance,  and  not  a  phantom  like  the  life  of  our 
present  states,  which  are  mostly  composed  of  men  who 
fight  among  themselves  for  shadows,  and  are  at  feud  for 
the  administration  of  affairs,  which  they  regard  as  a 
great  boon.  Whereas  I  conceive  the  truth  stands  thus: 
That  city  in  which  the  destined  rulers  are  least  eager  to 
rule,  will  inevitably  be  governed  in  the  best  and  least 
factious  manner,  and  a  contrary  result  will  ensue  if  the 
rulers  are  of  a  contrary  disposition.  .  .  .  But  if  beggars, 
and  persons  who  hunger  after  private  advantages,  take 
the  reins  of  the  state,  with  the  idea  that  they  are  privi- 
leged to  snatch  advantage  from  their  power,  all  goes 
wrong.  For  the  post  of  magistrate  is  thus  made  an 
object  of  strife;  and  civil  and  intestine  conflicts  of  this 
nature  ruin  not  only  the  contending  parties,  but  also  ths 
rest  of  the  state." 


PLATO  213 

DIALECTIC   THE    COPING-STONE    OF   THE    SCIENCES 

[The  allegory  of  the  den  suggests  the  question:  How 
is  the  soul  drawn  upward  from  the  shifting  shadows  of 
sense  to  the  eternal  world  of  reality?  Plato,  through 
Socrates,  points  out  that  the  contradictions  and  con- 
fusions of  our  sense-impressions  stimulate  reflection. 
The  application  of  number,  fixing,  as  it  were,  the  "  one  in 
many,"  begins  to  bring  order  out  of  chaos.  The  de- 
velopment of  the  sciences, — arithmetic,  geometry,  as- 
tronomy,— further  tends  to  draw  the  soul  upward  to  the 
intelUgible  world,  and  this  process  is  finally  completed 
by  dialectic,  the  nature  and  function  of  dialectic  being 
thus  described :] 

"  Whenever  ^  a  person  strives,  by  the  help  of  dialectic, 
to  start  in  pursuit  of  every  reality  by  a  simple  process  of 
reason,  independent  of  all  sensuous  information, — never 
flinching,  imtil  by  an  act  of  the  pure  intelligence  he  has 
grasped  the  real  nature  of  good, — he  arrives  at  the  very 
end  of  the  intellectual  world,  just  as  the  last-mentioned 
person  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  visible  world." 

"  Unquestionably." 

"And  this  course  you  name  dialectic,  do  you  not?" 

"Certainly  I  do." 

"  On  the  other  hand,  the  release  of  the  prisoners  from 
their  chains,  and  their  transition  from  the  shadows  of  the 
images  to  the  images  themselves  and  to  the  light,  and 
their  ascent  from  the  cavern  into  the  sunshine; — and, 
when  there,  the  fact  of  their  being  able  to  look,  not  at 
the  animals  and  vegetables  and  the  sun's  light,  but  still 
only  at  their  reflections  in  water,  which  are  indeed  divine 
and  shadows  of  things  real,  instead  of  being  shadows  of 
images  thrown  by  a  light  which  may  itself  be  called  an 
» Plato's  Republic,  p.  532  A. 


214       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

image,  when  compared  with  the  sun; — these  points,  I  say, 
find  their  counterpart  in  all  this  pursuit  of  the  above- 
mentioned  arts,  which  possesses  this  power  of  elevating 
the  noblest  part  of  the  soul,  and  advancing  it  toward 
the  contemplation  of  that  which  is  most  excellent  in  the 
things  that  really  exist,  just  as  in  the  other  case  the 
clearest  organ  of  the  body  was  furthered  to  the  con- 
templation of  that  which  is  brightest  in  the  corporeal 
and  visible  region.  .  .  .  And  may  I  not  also  affirm,  that 
the  faculty  of  dialectic  can  alone  reveal  the  truth  to  one 
who  is  master  of  the  sciences  which  we  have  just  enumer- 
ated; and  that  in  no  other  way  is  such  knowledge 
possible?" 

"Yes,  on  that  point  also  you  are  warranted  in  speak- 
ing positively." 

"At  any  rate,"  I  continued,  "no  one  will  contradict 
us  when  we  assert  that  there  is  no  other  method  which 
attempts  systematically  to  form  a  conception  of  the  real 
nature  of  each  individual  thing.  On  the  contrary,  all 
the  arts,  with  a  few  exceptions,  are  wholly  addressed 
to  the  opinions  and  wants  of  men,  or  else  concern  them- 
selves about  the  production  and  composition  of  bodies, 
or  the  treatment  of  things  which  grow  and  are  com- 
pounded. And  as  for  these  few  exceptions,  such  as 
geometry  and  its  accompanying  sciences,  which,  accord- 
ing to  us,  in  some  small  degree  apprehend  what  is  real, — 
we  find  that,  though  they  may  dream  about  real  exist- 
ence, they  cannot  behold  it  in  a  waking  state,  so  long  as 
they  use  hypotheses  which  they  leave  unexamined,  and 
of  which  they  can  give  no  account.  For  when  a  person 
assumes  a  first  principle  which  he  does  not  know,  on 
which  unknown  first  principle  depends  the  web  of  inter- 
mediate propositions,  and  the  final  conclusion, — by  what 


PLATO  215 

possibility  can  such  mere  admissions  ever  constitute 
science?" 

"It  is  indeed  impossible." 

"Hence  the  dialectic  method,  and  that  alone,  adopts 
the  following  course.  It  carries  back  its  hypotheses  to 
the  very  first  principle  of  all,  in  order  to  establish  them 
firmly;  and  finding  the  eye  of  the  soul  absolutely  buried 
in  a  swamp  of  barbarous  ignorance,  it  gently  draws  and 
raises  it  upward,  employing  as  handmaids  in  this  work 
of  revolution  the  arts  which  we  have  discussed.  These 
we  have  often  called  sciences,  because  it  is  customary 
to  do  so,  but  they  require  another  name,  betokening 
greater  clearness  than  opinion,  but  less  distinctness  than 
science.  On  some  former  occasion  we  fixed  upon  the 
term  understanding  to  express  this  mental  process. 
But  it  appears  to  me  to  be  no  part  of  our  business  to 
dispute  about  a  name,  when  we  have  proposed  to  our- 
selves the  consideration  of  such  important  subjects." 

"You  are  quite  right,"  said  he:  "we  only  want  a  name 
which  when  applied  to  a  mental  state  shall  indicate 
clearly  what  phenomena  it  describes." 

"  Indeed,  I  am  content,"  I  proceeded,  "  to  call  as  before 
the  first  division  science,  the  second  understanding,  the 
third  belief,  and  the  fourth  conjecture, — the  two  latter 
jointly  constituting  opinion,  and  the  two  former  in- 
telligence. Opinion  deals  with  the  changing,  intelli- 
gence with  the  real;  and  as  the  real  is  to  the  changing, 
so  is  intelligence  to  opinion ;  and  as  intelligence  is  to 
opinion,  so  is  science  to  belief,  and  understanding  to 
conjecture.  .  .  . 

"  Do  you  also  give  the  title  of  Dialectician  to  the  per- 
son who  takes  thoughtful  account  of  the  essence  of  each 
thing?    And  will  you  admit  that,  so  far  as  a  person  has 


216       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

no  such  account  to  give  to  himself  and  to  others,  so  far 
he  fails  to  exercise  pure  reason  upon  the  subject?" 

"Yes,  I  cannot  doubt  it,"  he  replied. 

"  Then  shall  you  not  also  hold  the  same  language  con- 
cerning the  good?  Unless  a  person  can  strictly  define 
by  a  process  of  thought  the  essential  Form  of  the  Good, 
abstracted  from  everything  else ;  and  unless  he  can  fight 
his  way  as  it  were  through  all  objections,  studying  to 
disprove  them  not  by  the  rules  of  opinion,  but  by  those 
of  real  existence;  and  unless  in  all  these  conflicts  he 
travels  to  his  conclusion  without  making  one  false  step 
in  his  train  of  thought, — unless  he  does  all  this,  shall  you 
not  assert  that  he  knows  neither  the  essence  of  good,  nor 
any  other  good  thing;  and  that  any  phantom  of  it,  which 
he  may  chance  to  apprehend,  is  the  fruit  of  opinion  and 
not  of  science;  and  that  he  dreams  and  sleeps  away  his 
present  life,  and  never  wakes  on  this  side  of  that  future 
world,  in  which  he  is  doomed  to  sleep  forever?  .  .  . 
Then  does  it  not  seem  to  you  that  dialectic  lies,  like 
a  coping-stone,  upon  the  top  of  the  sciences,  and  that  it 
would  be  wrong  to  place  any  other  science  above  it 
because  the  series  is  now  complete?" 


XIV 

ARISTOTLE 

[384-322  B.C.] 

ORIGIN    AND    NATURE    OF    PHILOSOPHY 

It  ^  was  owing  to  wonder  that  men  began  to  philos- 
ophize in  earlier  times  just  as  it  is  to-day,  wondering  at 
first  about  the  problems  that  lie  close  at  hand,  and  then 
little  by  little  advancing  to  the  greater  perplexities,  such 
as  the  phenomena  of  the  moon  and  sun  and  stars,  and 
the  creation  of  the  universe.  But  one  who  is  perplexed 
and  filled  with  wonder  feels  himself  to  be  in  ignorance, 
and  so  the  lover  of  the  myth  is  in  a  way  the  lover  of 
wisdom,  for  the  myth  too  is  made  of  marvels.  And  so 
if  men  philosophized  in  order  to  escape  ignorance  it  is 
evident  that  they  pursued  wisdom  just  for  the  sake  of 
knowing,  not  for  the  sake  of  any  advantage  it  might 
bring.  This  is  shown  too  by  the  course  of  events.  For 
it  was  only  after  practically  all  things  that  are  necessary 
for  the  comfort  and  convenience  of  life  had  been  pro- 
vided that  this  kind  of  knowledge  began  to  be  sought. 
Clearly  then  we  pursue  this  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  no 
extraneous  use  to  which  it  may  be  put,  but,  just  as  we 
call  a  man  free  who  serves  his  own  and  not  another's 
will,  so  also  this  science  is  the  only  one  of  all  the  sciences 
that  is  liberal,  for  it  is  the  only  one  that  exists  for  its  own 
sake.  .  .  .  More  necessary,  indeed,  every  other  science 
may  be  than  this,  more  excellent  there  is  noitc. 

» Arist.  Met.  I.  2,  982  b  12. 
217 


218       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

But  2  somehow  the  possession  of  this  knowledge  in- 
evitably brings  us  to  a  position  precisely  the  opposite 
of  that  in  which  we  were  at  the  beginning  of  our  i^i- 
vestigations.  For,  as  I  have  said,  we  all  begin  by  wonder- 
ing that  things  are  as  they  are,  just  as  marionettes,  or 
again  such  things  as  the  turnings  of  the  sun  or  the  in- 
commensurability of  the  diameter  are  wonderful  to  those 
who  do  not  yet  understand  the  cause;  for  every  one  is 
filled  with  astonishment  on  first  hearing  that  there  is  any- 
thing which  cannot  be  measured  if  the  unit  of  measure- 
ment be  made  small  enough.  And  yet  in  the  end  our 
position  is  reversed,  and  ^^after-thinking  is  best,"  as  the 
proverb  has  it;  and  so  it  is  in  the  cases  before  us  when 
once  we  reach  knowledge.  For  nothing  would  so  as- 
tonish the  geometrician  as  to  discover  that  the  diagonal 
was  commensurate  with  the  side. 

*  * 

Science  ^  arises  whenever  from  a  mmiber  of  notions 
derived  from  experience  a  universal  conception  is  formed 
comprising  all  similar  cases.  To  have  the  conception 
that  when  Kallias  was  sick  of  such  and  such  a  disease 
such  and  such  a  remedy  did  him  good,  and  the  same  of 
Socrates  and  of  many  others  taken  one  by  one,  is  the 
part  of  experience;  but  to  know  that  it  did  good  to  all 
such  persons  comprised  in  one  and  the  same  class, 
afflicted  with  the  same  disease,  such  as  inflammation, 
or  biliousness,  or  burning  fever,  is  the  part  of  science. 
In  actually  achieving  results  experience  is  apparently 
not  inferior  to  science.  On  the  contrary  we  often  find 
men  of  experience  more  successful  in  reaching  their  aim 
than  men  who  have  the  theory  without  the  experience. 

'Arist.  Afe«.  I.  2.  983  a  11. 
'lb.  I.  1,981  a  5. 


ARISTOTLE  219 

The  reason  for  this  is  that  experience  is  knowledge  of 
individual  cases,  whereas  science  is  knowledge  of  uni- 
versal principles,  and  every  action  and  every  creative 
process  has  to  do  with  individual  cases.  For  example, 
the  physician  does  not  heal  mankind,  except  incidentally, 
but  rather  Kallias  or  Socrates  or  some  other  similar  in- 
dividual who  happens,  to  be  sure,  also  to  belong  to  the 
genus  homo.  If,  then,  one  possesses  the  theory  without 
the  experience,  and  has  a  knowledge  of  the  general 
principles,  but  does  not  know  how  to  apply  them  in 
the  individual  case  before  him,  he  will  very  often  make 
a  mistake  as  to  the  cure  required;  for  it  is  always  the 
individual  case  that  is  to  be  cured. 

Nevertheless  we  think  that  knowledge  and  imderstand- 
ing  are  properties  of  science  rather  than  of  experience, 
and  we  hold  men  of  science  to  be  wiser  than  men  of 
experience  on  the  ground  that  in  every  case  wisdom  is 
to  be  ascribed  to  one  in  proportion  to  the  extent  of  his 
knowledge.  And  the  reason  why  we  do  this  is  because 
the  former  know  the  reason  why,  the  latter  do  not; 
men  of  experience  know  the  fact,  men  of  science  know 
the  wherefore  of  the  fact.  .  .  . 

In  general  the  mark  of  knowledge  is  ability  to  impart 
what  one  knows  to  others;  and  this  is  why  we  hold  science 
to  be  a  higher  form  of  knowledge  than  experience,  men 
of  science  being  able,  men  of  experience  being  unable 
to  impart  their  knowledge  to  others. 

Fm-thermore,  we  do  not  attribute  wisdom  to  any  of 
the  senses  although  they  are,  it  is  true,  the  chief  means  of 
knowing  individual  cases.  But  they  do  not  tell  us  the 
wherefore  of  any  fact,  as  for  example,  why  fire  is  hot, 
but  simply  that  it  is  hot.  Consequently  it  was  natural 
that  the  first  man  who  discovered  any  science  whatso- 


220       SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

ever  that  went  beyond  the  knowledge  of  the  senses 
which  is  common  to  all,  was  the  wonder  and  admira- 
tion of  his  fellow-men,  not  only  because  there  was  some- 
thing useful  in  his  discoveries,  but  because  they  held 
him  to  be  a  wise  man  and  superior  to  his  fellows.  And 
as  more  and  more  of  the  sciences  are  discovered,  some 
having  to  do  with  the  necessities,  others  with  the  com- 
forts of  life,  we  always  hold  men  who  discovered  the 
latter  to  be  wiser  than  those  who  discovered  the  former, 
just  because  in  their  case  knowledge  has  nothing  to  do 
with  utihty.  Whence  it  came  about  that  when  all  the 
different  sciences  of  these  two  sorts  had  been  discovered 
the  sciences  were  discovered  which  have  nothing  to  do 
either  with  the  pleasures  or  the  necessities  of  life,  and 
first  of  all  in  those  places  where  men  had  leisure.  This 
is  why  the  mathematical  sciences  were  developed  first 
of  all  in  the  neighborhood  of  Egypt,  for  there  the  priestly 
class  was  left  with  plenty  of  leisure.  ...  All  men  un- 
derstand as  the  object  of  what  is  called  wisdom  knowl- 
edge of  ultimate  causes  and  first  principles,  so  that, 
as  we  said  before,  the  man  of  experience  is  superior 
in  point  of  wisdom  to  the  man  who  merely  trusts  his 
senses,  whatever  the  sense  may  be,  and  the  man  of  science 
is  superior  to  the  man  of  experience,  the  architect  to  the 
manual  laborer,  theory  to  practice.  It  is  evident  from 
all  this  that  wisdom  is  the  knowledge  of  causes  and  first 
principles  of  some  kind  or  other. 

Aristotle's  criticism  of  the  theory  of  ideas 

With  ^  regard  to  the  philosophers  who  introduced  ideas 
as  causes  we  have  in  the  first  place  this  objection  to 
offer,  that  in  seeking  to  find  an  explanation  of  the  tbitigs 

*  Arist.  Met.  I.  9,  990  a  34. 


ARISTOTLE  221 

that  exist  they  have  introduced  other  reaHties  equal  in 
number;  just  as  if  one  should  try  to  count  a  number  of 
objects,  and  should  suppose  that  he  could  not  do  so  if  the 
number  were  small,  but  that  he  would  have  no  diffi- 
culty if  he  made  the  number  larger.  For  the  ideas  are 
practically  equal  in  number  to, — at  any  rate  they  are 
not  less  than,  the  things  for  the  explanation  of  which 
they  had  recourse  to  the  world  of  ideas.  For  every 
individual  object  has  its  synonymous  reality,  and  over 
and  above  actual  existences  there  are  ideas  of  all  other 
things  wherever  there  is  a  ''one  in  many,"  both  in  the 
changeable  things  of  this  world  and  in  the  eternal. 

The  second  objection  we  have  to  offer  is  that  of  all 
the  proofs  which  we  bring  forward  for  the  existence  of 
ideas  there  is  no  real  evidence;  for  in  the  case  of  some 
of  oiu-  arguments  the  conclusion  does  not  necessarily 
follow,  and  in  the  case  of  others,  ideas  are  also  proved 
to  exist  for  things  for  which  we  do  not  assume  the 
existence  of  any  ideas.  For  example,  from  the  proofs 
which  are  taken  from  the  existence  of  the  various  sciences 
there  will  be  ideas  of  all  things  whatever  which  can  serve 
as  the  objects  of  knowledge;  according  to  the  argument 
which  proceeds  from  the  ''one  in  many,"  ideas  will  be 
proved  to  exist  also  in  the  case  of  negations;  on  the 
ground  of  our  thinking  what  has  already  perished  there 
will  be  ideas  of  things  that  have  perished,  for  there  still 
remains  a  certain  representation  of  them. 

But  the  most  serious  objection  of  all  is  this:  what  in 
the  world  do  the  ideas  contribute  to  the  things  of  sense, 
either  to  those  that  are  imperishable  or  to  those  that 
arise  and  perish?  For  they  are  not  the  cause  of  any 
motion  or  change  in  them.  On  the  contrary  they  help 
us  not  a  whit  toward  the  knowledge  of  things  other  than 


222       SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

themselves  (for  they  are  not  the  substances  of  those 
things,  else  they  would  be  present  in  them) ;  nor  do  they 
explain  their  existence,  not  being  present  in  the  things 
that  participate  in  them.  .  .  . 

But  again  things  other  than  the  ideas  do  not  arise  from 
them,  at  least  in  any  of  the  usual  meanings  of  that  expres- 
sion. To  call  the  ideas  '  patterns,'  and  to  say  that  other 
things  '  participate '  in  them,  is  to  use  words  void  of 
meaning,  or  to  talk  in  poetical  metaphor.  For  what  is  it 
that  does  the  work  with  its  eyes  fixed  upon  the  ideas  as 
patterns?  It  is  in  truth  quite  possible  that  something 
should  come  into  being  like  something  else  without  being 
expressly  patterned  after  it.  For  instance,  w^hether  or 
not  Socrates  actually  existed  a  man  might  arise  like  Soc- 
rates; and  it  is  plain  this  is  equally  possible  had  the 
existing  Socrates  been  imperishable. 

And  there  must  be  several  patterns  of  the  same  thing, 
consequently  several  ideas.  For  example,  in  the  case  of 
man  there  will  be  a  pattern  ^'animal"  and  ''biped"  as 
well  as  the  pattern  ''man  as  such." 

Furthermore  the  ideas  must  be  patterns  not  only  of  the 
things  of  sense,  but  also  of  the  ideas  themselves, — class, 
for  example,  as  a  class  of  ideas.  And  so  the  same  thing 
will  be  at  once  pattern  and  image.  Again  it  would  seem 
to  be  impossible  that  the  substance  should  exist  apart 
from  that  of  which  it  is  the  substance.  How  then  if  the 
ideas  are  the  substances  of  things  can  they  exist  apart 
from  them? 

In  the  Phoedo  Plato  speaks  as  if  the  ideas  were  the 
causes  alike  of  existence  and  of  coming  into  being.  And 
yet  even  if  we  grant  the  existence  of  ideas,  still  the  things 
that  participate  in  them  do  not  come  into  being  unless 
there  is  some  cause  productive  of  movement.     Besides. 


ARISTOTLE  223 

many  other  things  come  into  being,  such  as  a  house  or  a 
ring,  for  which  we  do  not  assume  the  existence  of  ideas. 
This  being  the  case  it  is  clearly  possible  that  other  things 
also  should  be  or  come  into  being  through  causes  like 
those  operative  in  the  cases  just  mentioned. 

Aristotle's  own  view  regarding  the  universal 

That  ^  it  is  impossible  to  acquire  knowledge  through 
demonstration  if  we  have  no  knowledge  of  primary 
principles  immediately  known  we  have  shown  above. 
One  might;  however,  raise  the  question  with  regard  to  the 
knowledge  of  these  immediate  principles  .  .  .  whether 
the  habits  of  mind  that  give  this  knowledge,  not  being 
innate  are  developed  in  us,  or  whether  they  are  innate 
but  have  escaped  our  notice.  On  the  one  hand  it  is 
absurd  to  say  that  we  already  have  them,  for  then  we 
should  be  saying  that  we  have,  all  unknown  to  us,  a 
knowledge  more  accurate  than  demonstration.  If  on 
the  other  hand  we  suppose  that  we  have  to  begin  with 
no  such  immediate  principles,  how  should  we  ever  know 
or  learn  them  unless  some  knowledge  had  preceded? 
That  would  be  impossible  as  we  said  above  in  treating 
of  demonstration.  The  obvious  inference  is  that  it  is 
impossible  that  we  should  already  have  this  knowledge, 
and  equally  impossible  that  it  should  be  developed  in  us 
if  we  are  entirely  ignorant  and  have  no  habits  of  mind 
[fitting  us  to  detect  them].  We  must  then  have  some 
such  faculty,  but  not  of  such  a  kind  as  to  be  superior  in 
point  of  accuracy  to  the  principles  themselves.  And 
this  faculty  seems  to  be  shared  by  all  animals,  for  they 
all  have  an  innate  critical  faculty  called  sense-per- 
ception. 

•Arist.  An.  Post  II.  19.  99  b  2Q 


224      SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Without  6  the  universal  it  is  impossible  to  have  knowl- 
edge; but  separating  [the  universal  from  the  individual] 
was  the  cause  of  all  the  difficulties  that  attended  the 
theory  of  ideas.  * 

It  7  is  not  necessary  that,  if  there  is  to  be  demonstra- 
tive truth,  the  ideas  must  exist,  or  some  unity  over  and 
above  the  many  individual  things;  but  it  is  necessary 
that  there  should  be  some  unity  that  may  be  truly 
predicated  of  the  many  things.  Otherwise  there  will  be 
no  universal,  and  without  the  universal  there  would  be 
no  middle  term,  and  hence  no  demonstration. 

*  * 

Unless  ^  there  were  something  over  and  above  the 
individual  things  there  would  be  no  object  of  reason,  but 
all  things  would  be  merely  objects  of  sense,  and  con- 
sequently there  would  be  no  knowledge  of  anything,  un- 
less indeed  one  affirm  that  sense-perception  is  knowledge. 

*** 

It  ^  is  evident  then  that  no  universals  exist  over  and 
above  the  individual  objects  and  separate  from  them. 
And  those  who  assume  the  reality  of  ideas  are  right  in 
giving  them  such  independent  and  separate  existence 
in  so  far  as  they  are  substances ;  they  are  wrong,  however, 
in  calling  the  unity  which  is  predicated  of  many  individual 
things  [such  a  substantial]  idea.  The  cause  of  their 
confusion  is  the  fact  that  they  are  imable  to  tell  us 
what  such  imperishable  substances  are  which  exist  over 
and  above  the  individual  objects  of  sense.  And  so 
they  make  them  in  form  the  same  as  the  perishable 

0  Arist.  Met.  XII.  9,  1086  b  8. 

'Arist.  An.  Post.  I.  11,  77  a  5. 

•Arist.Me^.  II.  4,999bl. 

•  Arist.  Met.  VI.  16,  1040  b  27.     Cf.  Psych.  III.  18,  432  a  4. 


ARISTOTLE  225 

objects  of  sense  (for  these  we  know),  and  speak  of  man 
as  such  (avTodv6pco7ro<;),  horse  as  such,  adding  to  the 
objects  of  sense  the  expression  ^'as  such." 

It  10  is  apparently  impossible  that  any  of  the  so-called 
universals  should  exist  as  substance. 

Of  11  sensuous  substances  taken  individually  there 
is  neither  definition  nor  proof  possible,  because  they 
possess  matter,  and  the  nature  of  matter  is  such  that  it 
is  possible  for  it  to  be,  and,  also,  not  to  be. 

*  * 

Substance  ^^  is  the  indwelling  form  or  idea,  and  the 

concrete  substance  consists  of  ideas  in  conjunction 
with  matter.  For  example,  take  the  idea  ' 'hollo wness": 
this  and  the  nose  together  give  the  snub  nose  or  snub- 

nosedness.  * 

*  * 

Substance  i^  signifies  alike  substratum  {viroiceifievov) , 
and  the  essential  notion  {to  tl  rjv  ehac) ,  and  that  which 
consists  of  both,  and,  also,  the  universal. 

THE   FOUR    CAUSES 

One  1^  meaning  of  the  word  cause  is  the  matter  from 
which  anything  comes  into  being.  For  example,  bronze 
is  the  material  cause  of  the  statue.  ...  A  second  mean- 
ing is,  form  and  pattern.  This  is  the  same  as  the  essen- 
tial notion  (6  \0709  rou  tl  rjv  elvai).  ...  In  the  third 
place  cause  means  the  principle  which  produces  change, 
or  puts  a  stop  to  it.     For  example,  one  who  gives  advice 

"  Arist.  Met.  VI.  13,  1038  b  9. 
"  lb.  15,  1039  b  29. 
"lb.  11,  1037  a  29. 
"lb.  13,  1038  b  2. 
"  lb.  IV.  2,  1013  a  24. 


226       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

is  cause  in  this  sense,  or  the  father  is  cause  of  the  child; 
.  .  .  Finally,  cause  is  used  as  meaning  end  or  purpose, 
i.  e.,  as  that  for  the  sake  of  which  anything  is  done. 
For  example,  health  is  the  final  cause  of  taking  a  walk. 

Since  ^^  we  find  that  there  are  several  kinds  of  causes 
of  natural  processes  ...  we  must  determine  in  regard 
to  them  which  is  naturally  primary,  and  which  secondary. 
The  primary  cause  appears  to  be  what  we  describe  as 
that  for  the  sake  of  which  [a  thing  is  done],  for  this  gives 
the  reason  (X0709),  and  the  reason  is  the  first  principle 
alike  in  the  case  of  the  things  that  are  manufactured 
and  in  the  case  of  the  things  that  arise  in  the  course  of 
nature.  For  when  by  means  of  discursive  reasoning  or 
sense-perception  a  physician  has  determined  for  himseK 
the  nature  of  health,  or  the  builder  the  nature  of  a  house, 
they  give  the  reasons  and  the  causes  of  what  they  do  in 
each  individual  case,  and  tell  why  it  must  be  done  thus 
and  so.  ^*^ 

First  ^^  and  foremost,  matter  when  strictly  defined 
means  the  substratum  which  is  the  subject  of  generation 
and  destruction.  ^*^ 

1 1^  mean  by  matter  what  is  not  yet  actually  (ivepjeLa) 
an  individual  object,  but  is  such  potentially  {Bvpd/jL€L). 

*  * 
I  1^  mean  by  matter  as  such  neither  a  definite  some- 
thing nor  a  quantity  nor  anything  else  that  can  be 
described  by  the  categories  which  define  being. 

"Arist.  De  Part.  An.  I.  6,  39  b  11. 
i«  lb.  De  Gen.  et  Cor.  I.  4,  320  a  2. 
"lb.  Met  VII.  1,  1042  a  27. 
18  lb.  VI.  3,  1029  a  20. 


ARISTOTLE  227 

Matter  ^^  is  the  contingent  cause  of  that  which  occurs 
incidentally  and  over  and  above  what  regularly  takes 

place. 

Aristotle's  conception  of  god 

necessity  of  assuming  a  first  cause  or  a  prime  mover 

Since,^^  as  we  have  seen,  substances  are  of  three  kinds, 
two  belonging  to  the  physical  world,  the  third  being 
immovable,  we  have  now  to  speak  of  the  last,  and  to 
show  that  of  necessity  there  exists  some  eternal  im- 
movable substance. 

Of  things  that  exist  substances  are  the  first,  and  if  they 
are  all  perishable  then  everything  is  perishable.  But  it 
is  impossible  that  there  should  be  either  beginning  or  end 
of  motion:  it  is  forevermore.  And  the  same  is  true  of 
time,  for  it  is  impossible  that  there  should  be  either  a 
"before"  or  an  "after"  if  there  is  no  time.  Motion  is 
then  unceasing,  just  as  time  is,  for  time  is  either  identical 
with  motion  or  else  it  is  a  certain  property  of  motion. 
And  there  is  no  motion  save  in  space,  no  unceasing 
motion  save  motion  in  a  circle.  If,  however,  there  were 
something  merely  possessing  the  power  to  create  and  to 
impart  motion,  but  not  actually  operative,  still  there 
is  no  motion.  For  it  is  conceivable  that  that  which 
possesses  potentiality  should  not  be  actually  operative. 
Nor  are  we  any  better  off  if  we  assume  eternal  substances, 
like  the  "ideas"  which  some  have  assumed,  unless  they 
contain  some  principle  that  is  capable  of  bringing  about 
change.  And  even  this  would  not  be  sufficient,  nor 
would  some  other  substance  over  and  above  the  ideas 
accomplish  the  purpose;  for  unless  this  principle  be 
actually  operative  there  will  be  no  motion.     Moreover, 

19  Arist.  Met.  V.  2,  1027  a  14. 

20  lb.  XI.  Ch.  6. 


228       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

even  if  it  be  actually  operative,  but  if  at  the  same  time 
its  substance  be  but  potentiality,  it  will  not  suffice;  for 
still  there  will  be  no  eternal  motion,  for  it  is  conceivable 
that  what  potentially  is  should  not  come  into  being. 
It  is  necessary  therefore  that  there  should  be  a  principle 
of  such  a  nature  that  its  very  substance  is  its  being 
actually  operative.  Further,  substances  of  this  sort 
must  be  immaterial;  for  they  must  be  eternal,  if  anything 
at  all  is  eternal.  They  must  therefore  be  pure  actuality. 
But  here  arises  a  difficulty:  It  is  commonly  supposed 
that  everything  actual  is  also  potential  while  not  every- 
thing potential  is  actual,  from  which  it  would  follow 
that  what  potentially  is  is  prior  to  what  actually  is. 
But  if  this  were  so  not  a  single  thing  would  truly  exist; 
for  it  is  possible  that  a  thing  should  have  the  capacity  to 
exist  and  at  the  same  time  not  yet  truly  exist.  To  be 
sure,  if  we  accept  the  view  of  the  theologians  that  all 
things  sprang  from  Night,  or  that  of  the  physical  philos- 
ophers that  all  things  were  originally  mixed  together,  we 
have  to  face  the  same  impossibility.  For  how  will  the 
motion  get  started  if  there  is  to  be  no  cause  that  is 
actually  realized?  Matter  will  not  put  itself  in  motion. 
It  is,  say,  the  builder's  art  that  does  this. — So,  too, 
menses  and  earth  must  be  set  in  motion  by  semen  and 
seeds. — This  is  the  reason  some  philosophers,  like 
Leucippus  and  Plato,  assume  an  eternal  actuality;  for 
they  say  that  motion  is  eternal.  But  they  do  not  tell 
us  why;  nor  do  they  tell  us  what  the  motion  is,  nor  how 
it  takes  place  in  each  case,  nor  what  causes  it.  The  truth 
is,  nothing  is  set  in  motion  by  chance;  there  must  have 
been  always  some  underlying  cause,  just  as  is  the  case 
now;  a  thing  is  moved  this  way  by  its  nature,  that  way 
by  force — whether  of  the  mind  or  of  something  else. 


ARISTOTLE  229 

Furthermore,  of  what  sort  is  the  primal  motion?  It 
makes  a  vast  deal  of  difference  how  we  answer  this 
question.  But  Plato  himself  is  not  entitled  to  say  that 
the  principle  of  movement  is  what  he  sometimes  assumes 
it  to  be,  the  self-mover,  for  he  says  that  the  soul  is  both 
subsequent  to,  and  at  the  same  time  coeval  with,  the 
heavens. 

To  suppose  that  what  is  potential  is  prior  to  what  is 
actual  is  partly  right  and  partly  wrong.  How  this  is  so 
we  have  explained  above.  That  actuality  is  prior  to 
potentiaUty  is  the  view  of  Anaxagoras,  for  ''mind"  is 
actual,  and  of  Empedocles,  too,  with  his  doctrine  of 
Love  and  Hate,  and  of  all  those  who,  with  Leucippus, 
affirm  that  motion  is  eternal.  If  it  is  true  that  actuality 
is  prior  to  potentiality  it  follows  that  we  must  not  sup- 
pose that  Chaos  and  Night  existed  for  an  indefinite  time, 
but  rather  that  the  same  things  that  exist  now  existed 
always,  moving  like  a  circle  returning  upon  itself,  or  in 
some  other  way.  Now  if  the  same  world  exists  always  in 
the  circular  process  there  must  be  something  that  always 
abides  and  that  is  actually  operative  in  one  and  the  same 
way.  But  the  process  of  coming  into  being  and  passing 
away  is  possible  only  on  the  assumption  that  there  is 
something  else  that  exists  always  and  exerts  its  activity 
now  in  this  way  and  now  in  that;  and  so  it  must  exert 
its  activity  in  one  way  with  reference  to  itseK,  in  another 
way  with  reference  to  something  other  than  itself.  It 
must  therefore  exert  its  activity  either  with  reference  to 
the  primal  heavens  [the  heaven  of  the  fixed  stars]  or  with 
reference  to  another  and  a  different  principle.  Now  it 
must  of  necessity  be  w^ith  reference  to  the  primal  heavens, 
for  that  in  turn  is  cause  both  of  its  own  movement  and  of 
the  movement  of  the  lower  heavens  [i.  e.,  the  planetary 


230       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

region,  the  sun,  etc.].  And  so  the  heaven  of  the  fixed 
stars  is  superior,  for  it  is  the  cause  of  the  eternally  uniform 
motion  while  the  lower  heaven  is  cause  of  the  diversity  of 
motion.  Evidently  both  are  causes  of  the  eternally 
diverse  motion.  And  in  this  way  too  the  different  kinds 
of  motion  are  related  to  each  other.  What  need  there- 
fore to  seek  for  other  principles  ? 

DIVINE    REASON   AS   THE    PRIME    MOVER 

Since  ^i  the  case  stands  thus — and  if  it  did  not  stand 
thus  all  things  would  have  to  spring  from  Night,  or 
from  Chaos,  or  from  the  non-existent — our  difficulties 
would  appear  to  be  solved.  There  exists  [1]  something 
always  moving  with  ceaseless  motion,  and  its  motion  is 
cyclical.  This  is  shown  too  not  merely  by  our  argument 
but  also  by  the  actual  fact.  Consequently  the  primal 
heavens  are  everlasting.  Furthermore  there  exists  [2] 
that  to  which  these  impart  motion.  And  since  that 
which  both  imparts  motion  and  has  motion  imparted  to 
it  is  in  the  mean  position  there  exists  also  [3]  something 
which  imparts  motion  without  itself  having  motion  im- 
parted to  it — something  which  is  eternal,  which  is  an 
individual  substance  and  wholly  actual.  And  this  is  the 
way  it  imparts  motion.  It  is  like  the  object  of  desire, 
or  the  object  of  thought,  for  these  impart  motion  without 
being  themselves  moved.  Fundamentally  the  object  of 
desire  and  the  object  of  thought  are  the  same.  The  ob- 
ject of  desire  is  that  which  appears  beautiful;  the  object 
of  the  will  is  primarily  that  which  is  beautiful.  It  is  not 
the  striving  that  makes  a  thing  seem  good;  rather  we 
strive  after  a  thing  because  it  seems  good.  It  is  the 
thought  that  comes  first.  And  the  mind  moves  under 
21  Arist.  Met.  XI.  Ch.  7, 


ARISTOTLE  231 

the  instigation  of  the  object  of  thought.  But  only  the 
positive  series  is  in  itself  the  thought  series,  and  in  this 
series  substance  stands  first,  and  substance  that  is  pure 
and  simple  and  fully  actual  is  first  of  all.  (We  must  not 
confound  the  simple  with  the  one.  The  ''one"  signifies 
quantity,  the  ''simple"  a  kind  of  relation.)  But  surely 
the  beautiful  and  that  which  is  desirable  on  its  own 
account  belong  in  the  same  positive  series,  and  here  the 
best,  or  its  likeness,  stands  first.  And  that  the  final 
cause  belongs  to  the  immovable  order  the  method  of 
division  makes  plain;  for  purpose  is  always  a  purpose 
which  some  subject  has,  and  of  these  the  one — the  pur- 
pose itself — is  immovable,  while  the  other — the  purpose 
in  its  relation  to  a  subject — is  not.  And  [this  immov- 
able final  cause]  draws  its  object  unto  itself  as  the  be- 
loved the  lover;  and  that  which  is  thus  set  in  motion 
imparts  motion  to  all  other  things. 

Now  if  anything  is  subject  to  motion  it  is  possible  for 
it  to  be  different  from  what  it  is.  Consequently  if  the 
primal  actuality  is  the  motion  of  the  heavens,  in  so  far 
as  it  is  in  motion  it  is  possible  for  it  to  be  different  from 
what  it  is — different  in  position  if  not  in  substance. 
Since,  however,  there  is  something  that  imparts  motion, 
being  itself  not  subject  to  motion  but  existing  in  pure 
actuality,  it  is  impossible  that  it  should  be  in  any  respect 
different  from  what  it  is.  The  first  of  all  changes  is 
motion  in  space,  and,  in  fact,  circular  motion.  And  the 
prime  mover  imparts  this  motion,  and  is  therefore 
necessarily  existent,  and  in  so  far  as  necessarily  existent, 
nobly  existent,  and  thus  the  first  principle  of  all.  (Neces- 
sity is  a  term  used  in  several  senses:  (1)  necessity  by 
force,  as  contrary  to  natural  impulse;  (2)  the  necessity 
of  that  without  which  the  good  is  not;  and  (3)  the 


232       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

necessity  of  that  which  cannot  be  otherwise,  but  which 
absolutely  is.)  Upon  such  a  principle  then  heaven  and 
nature  depend. 

God's  life  is  hke  that  of  which  we  catch  a  transient 
glimpse  when  our  life  is  at  its  best.  Thus  indeed  his 
life  always  is  (a  thing  which  is  impossible  for  us),  for 
his  very  self-activity  is  bhss.  And  that  is  why  we  find 
greatest  pleasure  in  being  awake,  in  feeling  and  in  think- 
ing, and  in  the  hopes  and  memories  that  come  through 
these  activities.  But  thinking,  pure  thinking,  has  for 
its  object  that  which  is  in  itself  the  best,  and  such 
thinking  when  most  perfect  has  for  its  object  the  supreme 
good.  The  intellect  thinks  itself  in  grasping  the  in- 
telligible, for  it  becomes  intelligible  in  laying  hold  upon 
and  thinking  its  object.  Therefore,  the  intellect  and 
the  intelligible  are  the  same  thing;  for  to  be  able  to  receive 
the  intelligible  and  the  real  is  what  we  mean  by  intellect, 
and  the  intellect  actually  lives  in  doing  this.  And  it  is 
this  actual  life  of  the  intellect,  rather  than  the  intelligible 
as  object,  that  seems  to  be  the  divine  element  in  the  intel- 
lect, and  pure  speculative  vision  is  what  is  best  and  most 
enjoyable.  If  then  God  is  always  as  well  off  as  we  are 
now  and  then,  how  wonderful  it  is !  And  if  he  is  always 
better  off,  it  is  still  more  wonderful.  But  such  is  the 
fact.  And  life  belongs  to  him;  for  the  activity  of  the 
mind  is  life,  and  he  is  that  activity.  Pure  self-activity 
of  reason  is  God's  most  blessed  and  everlasting  life. 
We  say  that  God  is  living,  eternal,  perfect;  and  con- 
tinuous and  everlasting  life  is  God's,  for  God  is  eternal 
life. 

And  they  are  wrong  who,  like  Pythagoras  and  Speusip- 
pus.  hold  that  the  most  beautiful  and  the  best  are  not 
ioimd  In  the  first  cause,  arguing  from  the  fact  that  white 


ARISTOTLE  233 

the  first  cause  produces  plants  and  animals,  still  it  is 
from  these  that  the  perfect  plant  or  animal  springs. 
For  the  seed  comes  from  a  complete  plant  previously 
existing;  the  seed  is  not  first,  but  the  complete  plant. 
Just  as  we  should  say  that  man  is  prior  to  the  germ — 
not  the  man  who  springs  from  it,  but  he  from  whom  it 
comes. 

That  there  is  then  a  substance  which  is  eternal  and 
immovable  arid  separable  from  the  objects  of  sense  is 
evident  from  what  has  been  said.  And  it  has  also  been 
shown  that  this  substance  cannot  have  extension  but  is 
without  parts  and  indivisible.  For  it  imparts  motion 
through  endless  time,  and  nothing  hmited  has  un- 
limited potentiality.  Now  since  every  magnitude  is 
either  Hmited  or  unlimited,  for  the  reason  given  God 
cannot  have  limited  magnitude;  nor  yet  can  he  have 
unUmited  magnitude  because,  in  a  word,  there  is  no  such 
magnitude. 

And  further  that  God  is  free  from  passion  and  from 
qualitative  change  has  also  been  shown,  for  all  other 
changes  are  subsequent  to  motion  in  space.  Why  these 
things  are  so  is  now  clear. 

DIVINE    REASON   AND    ITS    OBJECT 

With  22  regard  to  the  divine  reason  certain  problems 
arise.  For  while  it  passes  for  the  divinest  of  manifesta- 
tions still  what  its  nature  must  be  in  order  that  it  should 
be  such  is  a  question  hard  to  answer.  For  if  it  thinks 
of  nothing  wherein  would  lie  its  majesty?  It  were  just 
like  a  man  asleep.  On  the  other  hand  if  it  thinks  of 
something  and  that  something,  being  different  from  itself, 
controls,  its  thinking,  it  cannot  be  the  noblest  substance — 

22  Arist.  Met.  XI.  Ch.  9 


234       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

for  in  that  case  that  which  is  its  substance  is  not  thinking 
but  potentiahty.  And  it  is  through  actual  thinking  that 
it  gets  its  noble  character. 

Further,  whether  its  substance  be  reason  or  thinking, 
what  does  it  think  about  ?  Clearly,  either  itself  or  some- 
thing else;  and  if  something  else,  either  always  the  same 
thing,  or  now  one  thing  and  now  another.  Does  it  for- 
sooth make  no  difference  whether  it  thinks  about  what 
is  excellent  or  whether  it  simply  thinks  at  random?  Is 
it  not  indeed  absurd  that  it  should  be  thinking  dis- 
cursively about  a  plurality  of  things?  It  is  evident 
therefore  that  it  thinks  about  what  is  most  divine  and 
most  noble,  and  that  it  changes  not,  for  it  could  change 
only  for  the  worse,  and  any  motion  would  be  already 
such  a  change. 

Now  in  the  first  place  if  the  divine  reason  is  not  actual 
but  only  potential  thinking,  it  is  conceivable  that  it 
should  find  its  everlastingness  but  toil  and  weariness. 
And  in  the  second  place  it  is  evident  that  then  something 
else  would  be  nobler  than  reason,  namely,  the  object  of 
reason.  For  thinking,  and  the  activity  of  thinking, 
would  belong  also  to  that  which  thinks  the  most  ignoble 
thoughts.  And  consequently,  if  this  is  to  be  avoided — 
and  there  are  some  things  which  it  is  better  not  to  see 
than  to  see — then  thinking  as  such  would  not  be  the 
best  thing. 

The  divine  reason  then,  if  it  is  the  supremely  excellent 
thing,  has  itself  for  its  object,  and  its  thinking  is  a  think- 
ing of  thinking.  But  science,  perception,  opinion,  dis- 
cursive reasoning,  seem  always  to  have  something  other 
than  themselves  for  their  object  and  only  incidentally 
to  be  their  own  object. 

Again,  if  there  is  a  difference  between  thinking  and 


ARISTOTLE  235 

being  thought,  by  which  of  the  two  does  reason  get  its 
nobiUty  ?  For  [in  the  case  supposed]  thinking  and  being 
thought  are  in  essence  not  the  same.  However,  in  some 
cases  knowledge  is  its  own  object.  In  the  case  of  the 
creative  sciences  it  is  the  inmiaterial  substance  and  the 
essential  notion  that  is  the  object  of  knowledge;  in  the 
case  of  the  speculative  sciences  it  is  reason  itself  and 
thinking.  Since,  then,  the  mind  is  not  one  thing  and  the 
object  of  the  mind  another,  in  cases  where  matter  is  not 
involved,  the  two  must  be  identical,  and  thinking  is  one 
with  its  object. 

Still  a  puzzle  remains  if  the  object  of  thought  is  com- 
posite, for  then  there  might  be  change  from  part  to  part 
within  the  whole.  But  the  fact  is  everything  immaterial 
is  indivisible.  And  just  as  the  human  mind,  which  has 
for  its  object  composite  things,  is  related  to  its  object 
in  favored  moments — for  it  does  not  then  grasp  the  good 
in  this  or  that  part  of  its  object,  but  rather  the  best  in  the 
whole  of  it,  the  object  in  this  case  being  something 
different  from  itseK — just  so  the  divine  thinking  is  itself 
relaied  to  itseK  through  all  eternity. 


XV 
ARISTOTLE   ON   PSYCHOLOGY 

THE    NATURE    OF   THE    SOUL 

We  1  will  now  ....  attempt  to  determine  what  soul 
is,  and  what  is  the  most  comprehensive  definition  that 
can  be  given  of  it. 

Real  substance  is  the  name  which  we  assign  one  class  of 
existing  things;  and  this  real  substance  may  be  viewed 
from  several  aspects,  either,  -first,  as  matter,  meaning 
by  matter  that  which  in  itself  is  not  any  individual  thing; 
or,  secondly,  as  form  and  specific  characteristic  in  virtue 
of  which  an  object  comes  to  be  described  as  such  and  such 
an  individual;  or,  thirdly,  as  the  result  produced  by  a 
combination  of  this  matter  and. this  form.  Further, 
while  matter  is  merely  potential  existence,  the  form  is 
perfect  realization  (a  conception  which  may  be  taken  in 
two  forms,  either  as  resembling  knowledge  possessed  or 
as  corresponding  to  observation  in  active  exercise). 

These  real  substances  again  are  thought  to  correspond 
for  the  most  part  with  bodies,  and  more  particularly 
with  natural  bodies,  because  these  latter  are  the  source 
from  which  other  bodies  are  formed.  Now  among  such 
natural  bodies,  some  have,  others  do  not  have  life, 
meaning  here  by  life  the  process  of  nutrition,  increase,  and 
decay  from  an  internal  principle.     Thus  every  natural 

»Arist.  De  An.  11.  1,  412  a  4.  The  passages  from  Aristotle's 
Psychology  which  follow  are  all  taken  from  Wallace's  translation 

236 


ARISTOTLE   ON   PSYCHOLOGY  237 

body  possessed  of  life  would  be  a  real  substance,  and  a 
substance  which  we  may  describe  as  composite. 

Since  then  the  body,  as  possessed  of  life,  is  of  this 
compound  character,  the  body  itself  would  not  constitute 
the  soul:  for  body  is  not  [like  life  and  soul]  something 
attributed  to  a  subject;  it  rather  acts  as  the  underlying 
subject  and  the  material  basis.  Thus  then  the  soul  must 
necessarily  be  a  real  substance,  as  the  form  which  de- 
termines a  natural  body  possessed  potentially  of  life. 
The  reality,  however,  of  an  object  is  contained  in  its 
perfect  realization.  Soul  therefore  will  be  a  perfect 
realization  of  a  body  such  as  has  been  described.  Per- 
fect realization,  however,  is  a  word  used  in  two  senses: 
it  may  be  understood  either  as  an  implicit  state  cor- 
responding to  knowledge  as  possessed,  or  as  an  ex- 
plicitly exercised  process  corresponding  to  active  ob- 
servation. Here,  in  reference  to  soul,  it  must  evidently 
be  imderstood  in  the  former  of  these  two  senses :  for  the 
soul  is  present  with  us  as  much  while  we  are  asleep  as 
while  we  are  awake;  and  while  waking  resembles  active 
observation,  sleep  resembles  the  implicit  though  not 
exercised  possession  of  knowledge.  Now  in  reference  to 
the  same  subject,  it  is  the  implicit  knowledge  of  scientific 
principles  which  stands  prior.  Soul  therefore  is  the 
earlier  or  implicit  perfect  realization  of  a  natural  body 
possessed  potentially  of  life. 

Such  potential  life  belongs  to  everything  which  is  pos- 
sessed of  organs.  Organs,  however,  we  must  remember, 
is  a  namxe  that  applies  also  to  the  parts  of  plants,  except 
that  they  are  altogether  uncompounded.  Thus  the  leaf 
is  the  protection  of  the  pericarp  and  the  pericarp  of  the 
fruit;  while  the  roots  are  analogous  to  the  mouth  in 
animals,  both  being  used  to  absorb  nourishment.     Thus 


238       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

then,  if  we  be  required  to  frame  some  one  common  defini- 
tion, which  will  apply  to  every  form  of  soul,  it  would  be 
that  soul  is  the  earlier  perfect  realization  of  a  natural 
organic  body. 

The  definition  we  have  just  given  should  make  it 
evident  that  we  must  no  more  ask  whether  the  soul  and 
the  bod}^  are  one,  than  ask  whether  the  wax  and  the 
figure  impressed  upon  it  are  one,  or  generally  inquire 
whether  the  material  and  that  of  which  it  is  the  material 
are  one;  for  though  unity  and  being  are  used  in  a  variety 
of  senses,  their  most  distinctive  sense  is  that  of  perfect 
realization. 

A  general  account  has  thus  been  given  of  the  nature 
of  the  soul:  it  is,  we  have  seen,  a  real  substance  which 
expresses  an  idea.  Such  a  substance  is  the  manifesta- 
tion of  the  inner  meaning  of  such  and  such  a  body.  Sup- 
pose, for  example,  that  an  instrument  such  as  an  axe 
were  a  natural  body;  then  its  axehood  or  its  being  an  axe 
would  constitute  its  essential  nature  or  reality,  and  thus, 
so  to  speak,  its  soul;  because  were  this  axehood  taken 
away  from  it,  it  would  be  no  longer  an  axe,  except  in  so 
far  as  it  might  still  be  called  by  this  same  name.  The 
object  in  question,  however,  is  as  matter  of  fact  only  an 
axe;  soul  being  not  the  idea  and  the  manifestation  of  the 
meaning  of  a  body  of  this  kind,  but  of  a  natural  body 
possessing  within  itself  a  cause  of  movement  and  of  rest. 

The  theory  just  stated  should  be  viewed  also  in 
reference  to  the  separate  bodily  parts.  If,  for  example, 
the  eye  were  possessed  of  life,  vision  would  be  its  soul : 
because  vision  is  the  reaUty  which  expresses  the  idea  of 
the  eye.  The  eye  itself,  on  the  other  hand,  is  merely 
the  material  substratum  for  vision:  and  when  this  power 
of  vision  fails,  it  no  longer  remains  an  eye,  except  m  so 


ARISTOTLE  ON  PSYCHOLOGY  239 

far  as  it  is  still  called  by  the  same  name,  just  in  the  same 
way  as  an  eye  carved  in  stone  or  delineated  in  painting 
is  also  so  described.  Now  what  holds  good  of  the  part 
must  be  applied  to  the  living  body  taken  as  a  whole: 
for  perception  as  a  whole  stands  to  the  whole  sensitive 
body,  as  such,  in  the  same  ratio  as  the  particiilar  exercise 
of  sense  stands  to  a  single  organ  of  sense. 

The  part  of  our  definition  which  speaks  of  something 
as  ''potentially  possessed  of  life"  must  be  taken  to  mean 
not  that  which  has  thrown  off  its  soul,  but  rather  that 
which  has  it:  the  seed  and  the  fruit  is  such  and  such  a 
body  potentially.  In  the  same  way  then  as  cutting  is 
the  full  reaHzation  of  an  axe,  or  actual  seeing  the  reaUza- 
tion  of  the  eye,  so  also  waking  may  be  said  to  be  the  full 
realization  of  the  body;  but  it  is  in  the  sense  in  which 
vision  is  not  only  the  exercise  but  also  the  imphcit 
capacity  of  the  eye  that  soul  is  the  true  realization  of 
the  body.  The  body  on  the  other  hand  is  merely  the 
material  to  which  soul  gives  reaUty;  and  just  as  the  eye 
is  both  the  pupil  and  its  vision,  so  also  the  hving  animal 
is  at  once  the  soul  and  body  in  connection. 

It  is  not  then  difiicult  to  see  that  soul  or  certain  parts 
of  it  (if  it  naturally  admit  of  partition)  cannot  be 
separated  from  the  body:  for  in  some  cases  the  soul  is 
the  reaHzation  of  the  parts  of  body  themselves.  It  is, 
however,  perfectly  conceivable  that  there  may  be  some 
parts  of  it  which  are  separable,  and  this  because  they  are 
not  the  expression  or  realization  of  any  particular  body. 
And  indeed  it  is  further  matter  of  doubt  whether  soul 
as  the  perfect  realization  of  the  body  may  not  stand  to 
it  in  the  same  separable  relation  as  a  sailor  to  his  boat. 

This  much  may  suffice  as  a  description  and  sketch  of 
the  nature  of  the  soul. 


240       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

THE    ANIMATE    AND    THE  INANIMATE 

It  2  may  serve  as  a  fresh  beginning  for  our  inquiry  to 
say  that  the  animate  is  distinguished  from  the  inanimate 
or  soulless  by  the  fact  of  life.  There  are  a  number  of 
ways  in  which  a  thing  is  said  to  live;  yet  should  it  possess 
only  one  of  them — as,  for  example,  reason,  sense-per- 
ception, local  movement  and  rest,  and  further  movement 
in  respect  of  nutrition  as  well  as  of  decay  and  growth — 
we  say  it  lives.  Hence  it  is  that  all  plants  are  thought 
to  live;  because  they  manifestly  contain  within  them- 
selves such  a  power  and  principle  as  enables  them  to 
acquire  growth  and  undergo  decay  in  opposite  directions; 
for  they  do  not  while  growing  upwards  not  grow  down- 
wards, but  they  grow  in  both  directions  and  on  all  sides, 
and  they  continue  to  live  so  long  as  they  can  assimilate 
nourishment.  Now  this  faculty  of  nutrition  may  be 
separated  from  the  other  functions;  but  in  the  case  of 
mortal  creatures  the  other  faculties  cannot  exist  apart 
from  this,  as  indeed  is  evident  from  plants  which  possess 
no  other  psychic  power  except  this  faculty  of  growth. 

It  is  then  through  this  principle  of  nutrition  that  life 
is  an  attribute  of  aU  living  things.  At  the  same  time 
the  animal  strictly  so  called  only  begins  when  we  reach 
sensation;  for  even  those  objects  which  do  not  move 
themselves  nor  change  their  position  but  possess  sensa- 
tion are  said  to  be  animals  and  not  merely  to  be  living. 
Among  the  senses  themselves,  it  is  touch  which  is  the 
fundamental  attribute  of  all  animal  forms.  And  just  ss 
the  nutritive  function  may  exist  apart  from  touch  and 
every  form  of  sense,  so  also  may  touch  exist  without  any 
of  the  oth^r  senses.  Thus  while  nutritive  is  the  name  given 

Arist.  De  An,  II.  2,  413  a  20. 


ARISTOTLE   ON   PSYCHOLOGY  241 

to  that  part  of  the  soul  in  which  plants  share  as  well  as  an- 

imalS;  all  animals  are  found  to  possess  the  sense  of  touch. 

* 
*  * 

[Life, 3  then,  and  sensation  are  what  mark  the  animate.] 
But  there  are  two  ways  in  which  we  may  speak  of  that 
by  which  we  live  and  have  sensation,  just  as  also  that 
by  which  we  know  may  be  employed  to  denote  either 
knowledge  or  the  mind,  by  both  of  which  we  are  in  the 
habit  of  speaking  of  people  as  knowing.  So  also  that  by 
which  we  are  in  health  denotes  on  the  one  hand  the 
health  itself,  on  the  other  hand  some  portion  of  the  body, 
or  it  may  be  the  whole  of  it.  Now  of  these  two  uses, 
knowledge  and  health  are  what  we  may  term  the  de- 
termining form  and  notion  and  so  to  speak  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  recipient  faculty,  in  the  one  case  of  knowledge, 
in  the  other  of  health — for  the  passive  material  which  is 
subject  to  modification  is  what  is  taken  to  be  the  home 
of  the  manifestation  of  the  active  forces.  Soul  then  is 
the  original  and  fundamental  ground  of  all  our  life,  of 
our  sensation  and  of  our  reasoning.  It  follows  therefore 
that  the  soul  must  be  regarded  as  a  sort  of  form  and  idea, 
rather  than  as  matter  and  as  underlying  subject.  For 
the  term  real  substance  is,  as  we  have  before  remarked, 
employed  in  three  senses:  it  may  denote  either  the 
specific  form,  or  the  material  substratum,  or  thirdly  the 
combination  of  the  tw^o :  and  of  these  different  aspects  of 
reahty  the  matter  or  substratum  is  but  the  potential 
groimd,  whereas  the  form  is  the  perfect  realization. 
Since  then  it  is  the  product  of  the  two  that  is  animate, 
it  cannot  be  that  the  body  is  the  full  realization  or  ex- 
pression of  the  soul ;  rather  on  the  contrary  it  is  the  soul 
which  is  the  full  realization  of  some  body. 

Arist.  De  An.  II.  2,  414  a. 


242       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

NOURISITMENT   THE    FUNDAMENTAL    FUNCTION;     TOUCH    THE    FUNDA- 
MENTAL  SENSE 

Of  ^  the  powers  of  soul  which  have  been  mentioned, 
some  organisms,  as  has  been  said,  possess  all,  others 
again  a  few,  while  a  third  class  possesses  one  only.  The 
powers  in  question  are  those  of  nutrition,  of  sensation, 
of  desire,  of  local  movement,  and  of  reasoning.  Plants 
possess  the  function  of  nutrition  only:  other  creatures 
have  this  and  also  the  faculty  of  sensation;  and  if  this 
latter,  then  they  must  also  have  the  faculty  of  desire: 
for  desire  includes  appetite  and  passion  and  wish. 
Animals,  however,  without  exception  possess  one  at  least 
among  the  senses — viz.,  touch:  and  wherever  a  faculty 
of  sense  is  present  it  is  accompanied  by  a  feeling  of 
pleasure  and  pain,  and  an  object  which  is  pleasant  or 
painful.  But  where  these  are  present,  there  appetite 
is  also :  for  appetite  is  the  desire  of  what  is  pleasant. 

Besides,  all  animals  have  a  sense  for  nourishment — 
viz.,  touch — for  it  is  by  means  of  things  dry  and  moist, 
hot  and  cold,  that  all  animals  are  fed:  and  touch  is  the 
sense  which  directly  perceives  these. 

THE    HIGHER   FACULTIES    PRESUPPOSE   THE   LOWER 

So  ^  likewise  animals  possessed  of  the  faculties  of 
sense  sometimes  have,  sometimes  do  not  have,  the  faculty 
of  local  movement ;  while  finally  the  smallest  class  possess 
also  reflection  and  understanding.  And  all  mortals  that 
possess  the  faculty  of  reasoning  possess  also  all  the  other 
powers,  whereas  those  that  possess  each  of  those  others 
do  not  in  every  case  possess  reflection;  some  in  fact  do 
not  even  possess  imagination  while  others  live  by  the 

« Arist.  De  An.  II.  3,  414  a. 
»Ib.  II.  3,  415  a. 


ARISTOTLE   ON   PSYCHOLOGY  243 

aid  of  this  alone.  As  regards  the  speculative  reason  a 
different  account  must  be  given.  Meanwhile  it  is  clear 
that  the  special  definition  of  each  of  these  powers 
separately  is  at  the  same  time  the  most  appropriate 
account  of  the  soul. 

SENSE-PERCEPTION 

The  ^  general  character  of  sense  in  all  its  forms  is  to 
be  found  in  seeing  that  sense-perception  is  that  which  is 
receptive  of  the  forms  of  things  sensible  without  their 
matter,  just  in  the  same  way  as  wax  receives  the  impress 
of  the  seal  without  the  iron  or  the  gold  of  which  it  is 
composed,  and  takes  the  figure  of  the  gold  or  bronze,  but 
at  the  same  time  not  as  bronze  or  gold. 

Similarly,  sense  receives  the  impress  of  each  object 
that  possesses  color,  or  flavor,  or  sound,  not,  however,  in 
so  far  as  each  of  them  is  such  and  such  a  definite  in- 
dividual, but  rather  so  far  as  it  is  of  such  and  such  a 
general  character,  and  relatively  to  its  notion.  An  organ 
of  sense-perception  then  is  reached  so  soon  as  any  part 
displays  this  power  of  apprehending  the  general  character 
of  objects.  And  thus  the  organ  and  the  faculty  of  sense 
are  essentially  and  fundamentally  the  same,  although 
they  manifest  themselves  in  different  ways;  otherwise, 
in  fact,  the  faculty  perceiving  would  be  as  it  were  a  sort 
of  magnitude :  whereas  neither  the  essential  character  of 
perception  nor  the  faculty  of  sense  can  be  described  as  a 
magnitude — rather  it  is  a  power  to  read  the  essential 
notion  of  the  object. 

These  considerations  show  why  sentient  impressions 
in  excess  destroy  the  organ  of  sense.  The  reason  is  that 
if  the  movement  of  the  organ  of  sense  be  too  strong,  the 

«Arist.  De  An.  II.  12,  424  a. 


244       SOURCE   BOOK   IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

relation,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  sense  involves,  is  broken 
much  in  the  same  manner  as  harmony  and  tone  become 
discordant  when  the  strings  are  violently  struck.  The 
same  fact  explains  also  why  plants  possess  no  sense- 
perception  although  they  have  a  psychic  element  and  are 
impressed  in  some  degree  by  things  tangible,  becoming, 
as  they  do,  both  hot  and  cold.  The  reason  is  that  they 
do  not  possess  that  faculty  (which  sense  implies)  of 
acting  as  a  mean  between  extremes,  and  have  no  funda- 
mental capacity  for  receiving  the  form  only  of  the  things 
of  sense :  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  at  the  same  time  as 
they  receive  the  form  of  anything,  they  receive  the 
matter  likewise. 

COGNITION 

We  ^  must  next  discuss  the  cognitive  and  thinking 
part  of  soul,  whether  it  be  separated  from  our  other 
mental  faculties  or  whether  it  is  not  separated  physically, 
but  be  so  only  by  thought  and  abstraction,  and  inquire 
what  is  the  specific  character  of  thought,  and  how  it  is 
that  at  some  stage  or  another  thought  begins  to  operate. 

Thinking,  we  may  assume,  is  like  perception,  and, 
if  so,  consists  in  being  affected  by  the  object  of  thought 
or  in  something  else  of  this  nature.  Like  sense  then, 
thought  or  reason  must  be  not  entirely  passive,  but 
receptive  of  the  form — that  is,  it  must  be  potentially  like 
this  form,  but  not  actually  identical  with  it:  it  will 
stand,  in  fact,  toward  its  objects  in  the  same  relation  as 
that  in  which  the  faculty  of  sense  stands  toward  the 
objects  of  perception.  Reason  therefore,  since  it  thinks 
everything,  must  be  free  from  all  admixture,  in  order 
that,  to  use  the  phrase  of  Anaxagoras,  it  may  rule  the 
'  Arist.  De  An.  III.  4,  429  a  10. 


ARISTOTLE  ON   PSYCHOLOGY  245 

world — that  is,  acquire  knowledge:  for  the  adjacent  light 
of  any  foreign  body  obstructs  it  and  ecHpses  it.  Its 
very  nature,  then,  is  nothing  but  just  this  comprehensive 
potentiality:  and  the  reason — that  is,  that  function 
through  which  the  soul  is  ratiocinative  and  frames  no- 
tions— is  therefore,  previously  to  the  exercise  of  thought, 
actually  identical  with  nothing  which  exists. 

This  consideration  shows  how  improbable  it  is  that 
reason  should  be  incorporated  with  the  bodily  organism: 
for  if  so,  it  would  be  of  some  definite  character,  either 
hot  or  cold,  or  it  would  have  some  organ  for  its  operation, 
just  as  is  the  case  with  sense.  But,  as  matter  of  fact, 
reason  has  nothing  of  this  character.  There  is  truth, 
too,  in  the  view  of  those  who  say  the  soul  is  the  source  of 
general  ideas:  only  it  is  soul  not  as  a  whole,  but  in  its 
faculty  of  reason:  and  the  forms  or  ideas  in  question 
exist  within  the  mind,  not  as  endowments  which  we 
already  possess,  but  only  as  capacities  to  be  developed. 

The  difference,  however,  between  the  impassivity  of 
the  faculty  of  reason  and  of  the  faculty  of  sense  is  clear 
from  a  consideration  of  the  organs  and  the  processes 
of  sense-perception.  Sense,  for  example,  is  unable  to 
acquire  perception  from  an  object  which  is  in  too  great 
excess — cannot,  to  take  an  instance,  perceive  sound 
from  extremely  loud  noises,  nor  see  nor  smell  anything 
from  too  violent  colors  and  odors.  Reason,  on  the 
contrary,  when  it  applies  itself  to  something  extremely 
intellectual,  does  not  lessen  but  rather  increases  its 
power  of  thinking  inferior  objects,  the  explanation  being 
that  the  faculty  of  sense  is  not  independent  of  the  body, 
whereas  reason  is  separated  from  it.  And  since  reason 
becomes  each  of  its  objects  in  the  sense  in  which  he  who 
is  in  actual  possession  of  knowledge  is  described  as 


246       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

knowing — this  resulting  when  he  can  apply  his  knowledge 
by  himself — the  reason  as  a  developed  capacity  is  similar 
to  what  it  was  previously  as  a  mere  unformed  faculty, 
though  not  the  same  as  what  it  was  before  it  learned  or 
discovered:  and  it  may  in  this  final  stage  be  said  to  think 
itself. 

CREATIVE   REASON 

The  ^  same  differences,  however,  as  are  found  in 
nature  as  a  whole  must  be  characteristic  also  of  the  soul. 
Now  in  nature  there  is  on  the  one  hand  that  which  acts 
as  material  substratum  to  each  class  of  objects,  this 
being  that  which  is  potentially  all  of  them;  on  the  other 
hand,  there  is  the  element  which  is  causal  and  creative 
in  virtue  of  its  producing  all  things,  and  which  stands 
toward  the  other  in  the  same  relation  as  that  in  which 
art  stands  toward  the  materials  on  which  it  operates. 
Thus  reason  is,  on  the  one  hand,  of  such  a  character  as  to 
become  all  things,  on  the  other  hand  of  such  a  nature  as 
to  create  all  things,  acting  then  much  in  the  same  way  as 
some  positive  quality,  such  as  for  instance  light :  for  light 
also  in  a  way  creates  actual  out  of  potential  color. 

This  phase  of  reason  is  separate  from  and  uncom- 
pounded  with  material  conditions,  and,  being  in  its 
essential  character  fully  and  actually  realized,  it  is  not 
subject  to  impressions  from  without:  for  the  creative 
is  in  every  case  more  honorable  than  the  passive,  just 
as  the  originating  principle  is  superior  to  the  matter 
which  it  forms.  And  thus,  though  knowledge  as  an 
actually  realized  condition  is  identical  with  its  object, 
this  knowledge  as  a  potential  capacity  is  in  time  prior  in 
the  individual,  though  in  universal  existence  it  is  not 
even  in  time  thus  prior  to  actual  thought.  Further, 
«  Arist.  De  An.  III.  5,  430  a  10. 


ARISTOTLE  ON   PSYCHOLOGY  247 

this  creative  reason  does  not  at  one  time  think,  at 
another  time  not  think  [it  thinks  eternally];  and  when 
separated  from  the  body  it  remains  nothing  but  what  it 
essentially  is;  and  thus  it  is  alone  immortal  and  eternal. 
Of  this  unceasing  work  of  thought,  however,  we  retain 
no  memory,  because  this  reason  is  unaffected  by  its 
objects;  whereas  the  receptive  passive  intellect  (which 
is  affected)  is  perishable,  and  can  really  think  nothing 
without  the  support  of  the  creative  intellect. 

REASON  AND   JUDGMENT 

With  ®  regard  then  to  the  exercise  of  reason,  the  think- 
ing of  isolated  single  terms  falls  within  a  sphere  in  which 
there  is  no  falsity:  when,  on  the  other  hand,  we  find 
both  falsity  and  truth,  there  we  reach  a  certain  combina- 
tion of  ideas  as  constituting  one  conception;  much  in  the 
same  way  as  Empedocles  said:  'Thereupon  many  there 
were  whose  heads  grew  up  neckless  entirely,"  but  were 
afterward  brought  together  by  friendship.  In  a  cor- 
responding fashion  is  it  that  those  notions  which  are 
originally  separate  are  afterwards  connected,  as  is,  for 
instance,  the  case  with  the  two  notions  incommensurate 
and  diagonal.  Should  the  notions  in  question  be,  how- 
ever, related  to  the  past  or  to  the  future,  thought  then 
adds  on  the  idea  of  time  to  that  of  mere  connection. 
Falsehood,  in  fact,  always  involves  combination  and 
connection :  even  in  asserting  the  white  to  be  not  white 
we  bring  not-white  into  a  combination.  It  should  be 
added,  at  the  same  time,  that  all  this  process  might  be 
described,  not  as  combination,  but  rather  as  disjunction 
or  division.  Anyhow  it  follows  that  truth  or  falsehood 
is  not  limited  to  saying  that  "Cleon  is  white,"  but  in- 
» Arist,  De  An,  III,  0,  430  a  26. 


248       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

eludes  the  judgment  that  he  was  or  will  be:  and  the 
process  of  thus  reducing  our  ideas  into  the  unity  of  a 
single  judgment  is  in  each  case  the  work  of  reason. 

REASON   AND    ITS   OBJECTS 

We  ^^  will  now  sum  up  the  conclusions  we  have  made 
about  the  soul.  The  soul,  we  have  seen,  is  in  a  way  all 
existing  things.  For  the  objects  of  existence  are  either 
objects  of  sense  or  objects  of  thought;  and  while  science 
is  in  a  way  identical  with  the  objects  of  thought,  sense 
again  is  one  with  the  objects  of  sense.  How  this  comes 
about  is  a  point  we  must  investigate. 

Scientific  thought  and  sense-perception  thus  spread 
themselves  over  objects,  potential  sense  and  science 
relating  to  things  potential,  actual  to  things  actual. 
Now  the  sensitive  and  the  scientific  faculty  in  the  soul 
are  potentially  these  objects — that  is  to  say,  the  objects 
of  scientific  thought  on  the  one  hand,  the  objects  of 
sense  on  the  other.  It  must  be  then  either  the  things 
themselves  or  their  forms  with  which  they  are  identical. 
The  things  themselves,  however,  they  are  not:  it  is  not 
the  stone,  but  simply  the  form  of  the  stone,  that  is  in  the 
soul.  The  soul,  therefore,  is  like  the  hand:  for  just  as 
the  hand  is  the  instrument  through  which  we  grasp  other 
instruments,  so  also  reason  is  the  form  through  which  we 
apprehend  other  forms,  while  sense-perception  is  the 
form  of  the  objects  of  sense. 

[The  forms  of  reason  are  not,  however,  something 
different  from  the  things  of  sense.]  As  there  is,  accord- 
ing to  the  common  opinion,  no  object  outside  the 
magnitudes  of  sense,  it  follows  that  the  ideas  of  reason 
are  contained  in  the  forms  of  sense,  both  the  so-called 
w  Arist,  De  An.  III.  8,  431  b  20. 


ARISTOTLE  ON   PSYCHOLOGY  249 

abstract  conceptions  and  the  various  qualities  and 
attributes  that  determine  sensible  phenomena.  And 
further,  without  the  aid  of  sense-perception  we  never 
come  to  learn  or  imderstand  anything;  and  whenever 
we  consider  something  in  the  mind,  we  must  at  the  same 
time  contemplate  some  picture  of  the  imagination:  for 
the  pictures  of  the  imagination  correspond  to  the  im- 
pressions of  the  senses,  except  that  the  former  are  without 
material  embodiment. 

At  the  same  time  imagination  is  something  different 
from  affirmation  and  negation,  for  it  is  only  by  a  com- 
bination of  ideas  that  we  attain  to  truth  and  falsehood. 
But,  it  may  be  asked,  in  what  respect  will  our  primary 
ideas  differ  from  mere  images  of  sense?  And  to  this, 
perhaps,  we  may  reply  that  they  are,  as  little  as  other 
ideas  which  we  frame,  mere  images  of  sense,  although 
never  framed  without  the  help  of  stich  representative 
images. 

THE    SPRINGS    OF    ACTION 

There  ^^  are,  however,  at  least  two  faculties  which  are 
manifestly  motive — viz.,  desire  or  reason,  if  we  regard 
imagination  as  a  form  of  reason.  Frequently,  in  fact, 
it  is  the  pictures  of  imagination  as  against  knowledge 
that  people  follow,  and  among  animals  other  than  man 
it  is  not  thought  nor  ratiocination,  but  simply  this 
power  of  representing  images  of  sense,  which  guides 
them.  Both  then  reason  and  desire  are  fitted  to  produce 
and  lead  to  local  movement.  The  reason  which  is  here 
intended  is  that  which  calculates  for  some  purpose — that 
is,  it  is  the  practical  reason,  distinguished  from  the 
speculative  by  its  end.  As  for  desire,  it  is  always  directed 
to  some  object:  in  fact,  it  is  the  object  at  which  desire 

"  Arist.  De  An.  IIL  10,  433  a  11. 


250       SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

aims  that  forms  the  starting-point  of  the  practical  reason, 
although  it  is  some  particular  detail  which  forms  the 
beginning  of  the  action. 

It  is  then  on  good  grounds  that  people  have  viewed 
as  springs  of  action  these  two  faculties  of  desire  and 
practical  intellect;  for  the  faculty  of  desire  has  itself  a 
motive  force,  and  the  intellect  excites  to  action  just  in 
so  far  as  the  object  of  desire  suppHes  it  with  a  starting- 
point;  just  as,  similarly,  imagination  when  it  moves  to 
action  does  not  do  so  independently  of  desire. 

The  spring  of  action  thus  resolves  itself  into  one  single 
thing,  viz.,  the  object  of  desire.  For  if  there  were  two 
faculties  acting  as  springs  to  action — reason  on  the  one 
hand,  desire  on  the  other — they  would  have  to  move  in 
virtue  of  some  common  character  they  shared.  Now 
reason,  it  is  found,  does  not  act  as  a  spring  of  action  in- 
dependently of  desire :  for  settled  wish  is  a  form  of  desire, 
and  when  a  man  is  led  to  act  according  to  his  reasonable 
conviction  he  is  moved  also  in  a  manner  corresponding 
to  his  wish.  Desire,  however,  excites  to  action  con- 
trarily  to  reason,  appetite,  which  so  acts,  being  one  of 
the  forms  of  desire.  And  thus,  then,  it  would  seem, 
reason  is  always  true  and  right,  whereas  desire  and 
imagination  may  be  both  right  and  not  right. 

It  is  then  always  the  object  of  desire  that  moves  to 
action;  and  this  is  either  the  good  or  the  apparent  good — 
not  good,  however,  as  a  whole,  but  simply  that  form  of  it 
which  relates  to  action — that  is,  which  is  contingent  and 
admits  of  being  other  than  it  is. 


XVI 
ARISTOTLE   ON  ETHICS 

THE    SUMMUM    BONUM 

Every  ^  art  and  every  kind  of  inquiry,  and  likewise 
every  act  and  purpose,  seems  to  aim  at  some  good;  and 
so  it  has  been  well  said  that  the  good  is  that  at  which 
everything  aims.  .  .  . 

If  then  in  what  we  do  there  be  some  end  which  we 
wish  for  on  its  own  account,  choosing  all  the  others  as 
means  to  this,  but  not  every  end  without  exception  as  a 
means  to  something  else  (for  so  we  should  go  on  ad 
infinitum,  and  desire  would  be  left  void  and  objectless), 
this  evidently  will  be  the  good  or  the  best  of  all  things. 

And  surely  from  a  practical  point  of  view  it  much 
concerns  us  to  know  this  good;  for  then,  like  archers 
shooting  at  a  definite  mark,  we  shall  be  more  likely  to 
attain  what  we  want.  .  .  . 

We  see  that  there  are  many  ends.  But  some  of  these 
are  chosen  only  as  means,  as  wealth,  flutes,  and  the 
whole  class  of  instruments.  And  so  it  is  plain  that  not 
all  ends  are  final. 

But  the  best  of  all  things  must,  we  conceive,  be  somer 
thing  final. 

If  then  there  be  only  one  final  end,  this  will  be  what 
we  are  seeking — or  if  there  be  more  than  one,  then  the 
most  final  of  them. 

*  Arist.  Ethics,  I.  1,  1.  The  passages  in  this  section  are  taken  from 
Peters's  translation  of  Aristotle's  Nichomachean  Ethics. 

251 


252       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Now  that  which  is  pursued  as  an  end  in  itself  is  more 
final  than  that  which  is  pursued  as  means  to  something 
else,  and  that  which  is  never  chosen  as  means  than  that 
which  is  chosen  both  as  an  end  in  itself  and  as  means, 
and  that  is  strictly  final  which  is  always  chosen  as  an 
end  in  itself  and  never  as  means. 

Happiness  seems  more  than  anything  else  to  answer 
to  this  description :  for  we  always  choose  it  for  itself,  and 
never  for  the  sake  of  something  else;  while  honor  and 
pleasure  and  reason,  and  all  virtue  or  excellence,  we 
choose  partly  indeed  for  themselves  (for,  apart  from  any 
result,  we  should  choose  each  of  them),  but  partly  also 
for  the  sake  of  happiness,  supposing  that  they  will  help 
to  make  us  happy.  But  no  one  chooses  happiness  for 
the  sake  of  these  things,  or  as  a  means  to  anything  else 
at  all. 

We  seem  to  be  led  to  the  same  conclusion  when  we 
start  from  the  notion  of  self-sufficiency. 

The  final  good  is  thought  to  be  self-sufficing  (or  all- 
sufficing).  In  applying  this  term  we  do  not  regard  a 
man  as  an  individual  leading  a  solitary  life,  but  we  also 
take  account  of  parents,  children,  wife,  and,  in  short, 
friends  and  fellow-citizens  generally,  since  man  is 
naturally  a  social  being.  Some  limit  must  indeed  be  set 
to  this;  for  if  you  go  on  to  parents  and  descendants  and 
friends  of  friends,  you  will  never  come  to  a  stop.  But 
this  we  will  consider  further  on:  for  the  present  we  will 
take  self-sufficing  to  mean  what  by  itself  makes  life 
desirable  and  in  want  of  nothing.  -  And  happiness  is 
believed  to  answer  to  this  description. 

And  further,  happiness  is  believed  to  be  the  most 
desirable  thing  in  the  world,  and  that  not  merely  as  one 
among  other  good  things*  if  it  were  merely  one  amon^ 


ARISTOTLE  ON  ETHICS  253 

other  good  things  [so  that  other  things  could  be  added 
to  it],  it  is  plain  that  the  addition  of  the  least  of  other 
goods  must  make  it  more  desirable:  for  the  addition 
becomes  a  surplus  of  good,  and  of  two  goods  the  greater 
is  always  more  desirable. 

Thus  it  seems  that  happiness  is  something  final  and 
self-sufficing,  and  is  the  end  of  all  that  man  does. 

But  perhaps  the  reader  thinks  that  though  no  one  will 
dispute  the  statement  that  happiness  is  the  best  thing 
in  the  world,  yet  a  still  more  precise  definition  of  it  is 
needed. 

TO  FIND   IT  WE  ASK,  WHAT  IS  MAN's  FUNCTION? 

This  will  best  be  gained,  I  think,  by  asking,  What  is 
the  function  of  man?  For  as  the  goodness  and  the 
excellence  of  a  piper  or  a  sculptor,  or  the  practiser  of 
any  art,  and  generally  of  those  who  have  any  function 
or  business  to  do,  lies  in  that  function,  so  man's  good 
would  seem  to  lie  in  his  function,  if  he  has  one. 

But  can  we  suppose  that,  while  a  carpenter,  or  a 
cobbler  has  a  fimction  and  a  business  of  his  own,  man 
has  no  business  and  no  function  assigned  him  by  nature  ? 
Nay,  surely  as  his  several  members,  eye  and  hand  and 
foot,  plainly  have  each  its  own  fimction,  so  we  must 
suppose  that  man  also  has  some  function  over  and 
above  all  these. 

What  then  is  it? 

Life  evidentV  he  has  in  common  even  with  the  plants, 
but  we  want  that|Which  is  peculiar  to  him.  We  must 
exclude,  thirefore^  the  life  of  mere  nutrition  and  growth. 

Next  tc  this  comes  the  Hfe  of  sense;  but  this  too  he 
plainly  shares  with  horses  and  cattle  and  all  kinds  of 
a'^imals.  \ 


254       SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

There  remains  then  the  Ufe  whereby  he  acts — the  hfe 
of  his  rational  nature,  with  its  two  sides  or  divisions,  one 
rational  as  obeying  reason,  the  other  rational  as  having 
and  exercising  reason. 

But  as  this  expression  is  ambiguous,  we  must  be 
understood  to  mean  thereby  the  life  that  consists  in  the 
exercise  of  the  faculties;  for  this  seems  to  be  more 
properly  entitled  to  the  name. 

The  function  of  man,  then,  is  exercise  of  his  vital 
faculties  [or  soul]  on  one  side  in  obedience  to  reason,  and 
on  the  other  side  with  reason. 

But  what  is  called  the  function  of  a  man  of  any 
profession  and  the  function  of  a  man  who  is  good  in  that 
profession  are  generically  the  same,  e.  g.,  of  a  harper  and 
of  a  good  harper;  and  this  holds  in  all  cases  without 
exception,  only  that  in  the  case  of  the  latter  his  superior 
excellence  at  his  work  is  added;  for  we  say  a  harper's 
function  is  to  harp,  and  a  good  harper's  to  harp  well. 

Man's  function  then  being,  as  we  say,  a  kind  of  life — 
that  is  to  say,  exercise  of  his  faculties  and  action  of 
various  kinds  with  reason — the  good  man's  function  is 
to  do  this  well  and  beautifully  [or  nobly]. 

But  the  function  of  anything  is  done  well  when  it  is 
done  in  accordance  with  the  proper  excellence  of  that 
thing. 

Putting  all  this  together,  then,  we  f  nd  that  the  good 
of  man  is  exercise  of  his  faculties  in  accordance  with 
excellence  or  virtue,  or,  if  there  be  more  than  one,  in 
accordance  with  the  best  and  most  complete  virtue. 

But  there  must  also  be  a  full  term  of  years  for  this 
exercise;  for  one  swallow  or  one  fine  day  does  not  make 
a  spring,  nor  does  one  day  or  any  small  space  of  time 
make  a  blessed  or  happy  man.  .  .  . 


ARISTOTLE  ON   ETHICS  255 

But  I  think  we  may  sa}^  that  it  makes  na  small 
difference  whether  the  good  be  conceived  as  chc  mere 
possession  of  something,  or  as  its  use — as  a  mere  habit 
or  trained  faculty,  or  as  the  exercise  of  that  fa^culty. 
For  the  habit  or  faculty  may  be  present,  ar.d  yet  issue 
in  no  good  result,  as  when  a  man  is  asleep,  or  in  any 
other  way  hindered  from  his  function;  but  v/ith  its  ex- 
ercise this  is  not  possible,  for  it  must  show  ItfieU  in  acts 
and  in  good  acts.  And  as  at  the  Olympic  games  it  is 
not  the  fairest  and  strongest  w^ho  receive  the  crown, 
but  those  who  contend  (for  among  these  are  the 
victors),  so  in  life,  too,  the  winners  are  those  who  not 
only  have  all  the  excellences,  but  manifest  these  in 
deed. 

And,  further,  the  life  of  these  men  is  in  itself  pleasant. 
For  pleasure  is  an  affection  of  the  soul,  and  each  man 
takes  pleasure  in  that  which  he  is  said  to  love — he  who 
loves  horses  in  horses,  he  who  loves  sight-seeing  in 
sight-seeing,  and  in  the  same  way  he  who  loves  jus- 
tice in  acts  of  justice,  and  generally  the  lover  of  excel- 
lence or  virtue  in  virtuous  acts  or  the  manifestation  of 
excellence. 

And  while  with  most  men  there  is  a  perpetual  conflict 
between  the  several  things  in  which  they  find  pleasure, 
since  these  are  not  naturally  pleasant,  those  who  love 
what  is  noble  take  pleasure  in  that  which  is  naturally 
pleasant.  For  the  manifestations  of  excellence  are 
naturally  pleasant,  so  that  they  are  both  pleasant  to 
them  and  pleasant  in  themselves. 

Their  life,  then,  does  not  need  pleasure  to  be  added  to 
it  as  an  appendage,  but  contains  pleasure  in  itself. 

Indeed,  in  addition  to  what  we  have  said,  a  man  is 
not  good  at  all  unless  he  takes  pleasure  in  noble  deeds. 


256       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

No  one  would  call  a  man  just  who  did  not  take  pleasure 
in  doing  justice,  nor  generous  who  took  no  pleasure  in 
acts  of  generosity,  and  so  on. 

If  this  be  so,  the  manifestations  of  excellence  will  be 
pleasant  in  themselves.  But  they  are  also  both  good 
and  noble,  and  that  in  the  highest  degree — at  least,  if 
the  good  man's  judgment  about  them  is  right,  for  this 
is  his  judgment. 

Happiness,  then,  is  at  once  the  best  and  noblest  and 
pleasantest  thing  in  the  world,  and  these  are  not  sepa- 
rated, as  the  Delian  inscription  would  have  them  to  be: 

What  is  most  just  is  noblest,  health  is  best, 
Pleasantest  is  to  get  your  heart's  desire. 

For  all  these  characteristics  are  united  in  the  best 
exercises  of  our  faculties ;  and  these,  or  some  one  of  them 
that  is  better  than  all  the  others,  we  identify  with 
happiness. 

But  nevertheless  happiness  plainly  requires  external 
goods,  too,  as  we  said;  for  it  is  impossible,  or  at  least  not 
easy,  to  act  nobly  without  some  furniture  of  fortune. 
There  are  many  things  that  can  only  be  done  through 
instruments,  so  to  speak,  such  as  friends  and  wealth 
and  political  influence :  and  there  are  some  things  whose 
absence  takes  the  bloom  off  our  happiness,  as  good  birth, 
the  blessing  of  children,  personal  beauty;  for  a  man  is 
not  very  likely  to  be  happy  if  he  is  very  ugly  in  person, 
or  of  low  birth,  or  alone  in  the  world,  or  childless,  and 
perhaps  still  less  if  he  has  worthless  children  or  friends, 
or  has  lost  good  ones  that  he  had. 

As  we  said,  then,  happiness  seems  to  stand  in  need  of 
this  kind  of  prosperity. 


ARISTOTLE   ON   ETHICS  257 

HOW   VIRTUE    IS    ACQUIRED 

Excellence,  2  then,  being  of  these  two  kinds,  intellectual 
and  moral,  intellectual  owes  its  birth  and  growth  mainly 
to  instruction,  and  so  requires  time  and  experience, 
while  moral  excellence  is  the  result  of  habit  or  custom 
(e^o?),  and  has  accordingly  in  our  language  received  a 
name  formed  by  a  shght  change  from  e^o?. 

From  this  it  is  plain  that  none  of  the  moral  excellences 
or  virtues  is  implanted  in  us  by  nature;  for  that  which 
is  by  nature  cannot  be  altered  by  training.  For  instance, 
a  stone  naturally  tends  to  fall  downward,  and  you  could 
not  trahi  it  to  rise  upward,  though  you  tried  to  do  so  by 
throwing  it  up  ten  thousand  times,  nor  could  you  train 
fu-e  to  move  downward,  nor  accustom  anything  which 
naturally  behaves  in  one  way  to  behave  in  any  other  way. 

The  virtues,  then,  come  neither  by  nature  nor  against 
nature,  but  nature  gives  the  capacity  for  acquiring  them, 
and  this  is  developed  by  training.   .  .   . 

But  the  virtues  we  acquire  by  doing  the  acts,  as  is  the 
case  with  the  arts  too.  We  learn  an  art  by  doing  that 
which  we  wish  to  do  when  we  have  learned  it;  we  become 
builders  by  building,  and  harpers  by  harping.  And  so 
by  doing  just  acts  we  become  just,  and  by  doing  acts  of 
temperance  and  courage  we  become  temperate  and 
courageous.  .  .  . 

But  habits  or  types  of  character  are  not  only  produced 
and  preserved  and  destroyed  by  the  same  occasions  and 
the  same  means,  but  they  will  also  manifest  themselves 
in  the  same  circumstances.  This  is  the  case  with 
palpable  things  like  strength.  Strength  is  produced  by 
taking  plenty  of  nourishment  and  doing  plenty  of  hard 
work,  and  the  strong  man,  in  turn,  has  the  greatest 
2Arist.  Ethics,  II.  1,  1 


258       SOURCE   BOOK   IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

capacity  for  these.  And  the  case  is  the  same  with  the 
virtues :  by  abstaining  from  pleasure  we  become  temper- 
ate, and  when  we  have  become  temperate  we  are  best 
able  to  abstain.  And  so  with  courage:  by  habituating 
ourselves  to  despise  danger,  and  to  face  it,  we  become 
courageous;  and  when  we  have  become  courageous,  we 
are  best  able  to  face  danger. 

The  pleasure  or  pain  that  accompanies  the  acts  must 
be  taken  as  a  test  of  the  formed  habit  or  character. 

He  who  abstains  from  the  pleasures  of  the  body  and 
rejoices  in  the  abstinence  is  temperate,  while  he  who  is 
vexed  at  having  to  abstain  is  profligate;  and  again,  he 
who  faces  danger  with  pleasure,  or,  at  any  rate,  without 
pain,  is  courageous,  but  he  to  whom  this  is  painful  is  a 
coward. 

For  moral  virtue  or  excellence  is  closely  concerned 
with  pleasure  and  pain.  It  is  pleasure  that  moves  us  to 
do  what  is  base,  and  pain  that  moves  us  to  refrain  from 
what  is  noble.  And  therefore,  as  Plato  says,  man  needs 
to  be  so  trained  from  his  youth  up  as  to  find  pleasure 
and  pain  in  the  right  objects.  This  is  what  sound 
education  means.  .  .  . 

Virtue,  then,  is  a  habit  or  trained  faculty  of  choice, 
the  characteristic  of  which  lies  in  observing  the  mean 
relatively  to  the  persons  concerned,  and  which  is  guided 
by  reason,  i.  e.,  by  the  judgment  of  the  prudent  man. 

And  it  is  a  moderation,  firstly,  inasmuch  as  it  comes 
in  the  middle  or  mean  between  two  vices,  one  on  the  side 
of  excess,  the  other  on  the  side  of  defect;  and,  secondly, 
inasmuch  as,  while  these  vices  fall  short  of  or  exceed 
the  due  measure  in  feeling  and  in  action,  it  finds  and 
chooses  the  mean,  middling,  or  moderate  amount. 

Regarded  in  its  essence,  therefore,  or  according  to  the 


ARISTOTLE   ON  ETHICS  259 

definition  of  its  nature,  virtue  is  a  moderation  or  middle 
Etate,  but  viewed  in  its  relation  to  what  is  best  and  right 
it  is  the  extreme  of  perfection. 

VIRTUE    AND    VICE    ALIKE    VOLUNTARY 

We  ^  have  seen  that,  while  we  wish  for  the  end,  we 
deliberate  upon  and  choose  the  means  thereto. 

Actions  that  are  concerned  with  means,  then,  will  be 
guided  by  choice,  and  so  will  be  voluntary. 

But  the  acts  in  which  the  virtues  are  manifested  are 
concerned  with  means. 

Therefore,  virtue  depends  upon  ourselves;  and  vice 
likewise.  For  where  it  lies  with  us  to  do,  it  lies  with  us 
not  to  do.  Where  we  can  say  no,  we  can  say  yes.  If 
then  the  doing  a  deed,  which  is  noble,  lies  with  us,  the 
not  doing  it,  which  is  disgraceful,  lies  with  us;  and  if  the 
not  doing,  which  is  noble,  lies  with  us,  the  doing,  which 
is  disgraceful,  also  lies  with  us.  But  if  the  doing  and 
likewise  the  not  doing  of  noble  or  base  deeds  Ues  with  us, 
and  if  this  is,  as  we  found,  identical  with  being  good  or 
bad,  then  it  follows  that  it  lies  with  us  to  be  worthy  or 
worthless  men. 

And  so  the  saying, 

None  would  be  wicked,  none  would  not  be  blessed, 

seems  partly  false  and  partly  true;  no  one  indeed  is 
blessed  against  his  will;  but  vice  is  voluntary. 

If  we  deny  this,  we  must  dispute  the  statements  made 
just  now,  and  must  contend  that  man  is  not  the  origina- 
tor and  the  parent  of  his  actions,  as  of  his  children. 

But  if  those  statements  commend  themselves  to  us, 
and  if  we  are  imable  to  trace  our  acts  to  any  other 
3  Arist.  Ethics,  III.  5,  1. 


260       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

sources  than  those  that  depend  upon  ourselves,  then 
that  whose  source  is  within  us  must  itself  depend  upon 
us  and  be  voluntary. 

This  seems  to  be  attested,  moreover,  by  each  one  of 
us  in  private  life,  and  also  by  the  legislators;  for  they 
correct  and  punish  those  that  do  evil  (except  when  it  is 
done  under  compulsion,  or  through  ignorance  for  which 
the  agent  is  not  responsible),  and  honor  those  that  do 
noble  deeds,  evidently  intending  to  encourage  the  one 
sort  and  discourage  the  other.  But  no  one  encourages 
us  to  do  that  which  does  not  depend  on  ourselves,  and 
which  is  not  voluntary;  it  would  be  useless  to  be  per- 
suaded not  to  feel  heat  or  pain  or  hunger  and  so  on,  as 
we  should  feel  them  all  the  same.  .  .  . 

[To  the  objection  that  a  man's  character  is  responsible 
for  his  misdeeds]  we  reply  that  men  are  themselves 
responsible  for  acquiring  such  a  character  by  a  dissolute 
life,  and  for  being  unjust  or  profligate  in  consequence  of 
repeated  acts  of  wrong,  or  of  spending  their  time  in 
drinking  and  so  on.  For  it  is  repeated  acts  of  a  par- 
ticular kind  that  give  a  man  a  particular  character. 

This  is  shown  by  the  way  in  which  men  train  them- 
selves for  any  kind  of  contest  or  performance:  they 
practise  continually. 

Not  to  know,  then,  that  repeated  acts  of  this  or  that 
kind  produce  a  corresponding  character  or  habit,  shows 
an  utter  want  of  sense. 

Moreover,  it  is  absurd  to  say  that  he  who  acts  unjustly 
does  not  wish  to  be  unjust,  or  that  he  who  behaves 
profligately  does  not  wish  to  be  profligate. 

If  then  a  man  knowingly  does  acts  which  must  make 
him  unjust,  he  will  be  voluntarily  unjust;  but  it  does 
not  follow  that,  if  he  wishes  it  he  can  cease  to  be  unjust 


ARISTOTLE  ON   ETHICS  261 

and  be  just,  any  more  than  he  who  is  sick  can,  if  he 
wishes  it,  be  whole.  And  it  may  be  that  he  is  voluntarily 
sick,  through  Hving  incontinently  and  disobeying  the 
doctor.  At  one  time,  then,  he  had  the  option  not  to  be 
sick,  but  he  no  longer  has  it  now  that  he  has  thrown 
away  his  health.  When  you  have  discharged  a  stone  it  is 
no  longer  in  your  power  to  call  it  back ;  but  nevertheless 
the  throwing  and  casting  away  of  that  stone  rest  with 
you;  for  the  beginning  of  its  flight  depended  upon  you. 

Just  so  the  unjust  or  the  profligate  man  at  the  begin- 
ning was  free  not  to  acquire  this  character,  and  therefore 
he  is  voluntarily  unjust  and  profligate;  but  now  that  he 
has  acquired  it,  he  is  no  longer  free  to  put  it  off. 

But  it  is  not  only  our  mental  or  moral  vices  that  are 
voluntary;  bodily  vices  also  are  sometimes  voluntary, 
and  then  are  censured.  We  do  not  censure  natural  ug- 
liness, but  we  do  censure  that  which  is  due  to  negligence 
and  want  of  exercise.  And  so  with  weakness  and  in- 
firmity; we  should  never  reproach  a  man  who  was  born 
blind,  or  had  lost  his  sight  in  an  illness  or  by  a  blow — 
we  should  rather  pity  him;  but  we  should  all  censure  a 
man  who  had  blinded  himself  by  excessive  drinking  or 
any  other  kind  of  profligacy. 

We  see,  then,  that  of  the  vices  of  the  body  it  is  those 
that  depend  on  ourselves  that  are  censured,  while  those 
that  do  not  depend  on  ourselves  are  not  censured.  And 
if  this  be  so,  then  in  other  fields  also  those  vices  that  are 
blamed  must  depend  upon  ourselves. 

ON   FRIENDSHIP 

It  ^  is  said  that  those  who  are  blessed  and  self-suflicient 
have  no  need  of  friends;  for  they  are  already  supplied 

»Arist.  Ethics,  IX.  9,  1. 


262       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

with  good  things :  as  self-sufficient,  then  they  need  noth- 
ing more,  while  a  friend  is  an  alter  ego  who  procures 
for  you  what  you  cannot  procure  yourseK;  whence  the 
saying— 

*'  When  the  gods  favor  you,  what  need  of  friends?  " 

But  it  seems  strange,  while  endowing  the  happy  man 
with  all  good  things,  to  deny  him  friends,  which  are 
thought  to  be  the  greatest  of  all  external  goods.  .  .  . 
Again,  it  is  surely  absurd  to  make  the  happy  man  a 
solitary  being:  for  no  one  would  choose  to  have  all  con- 
ceivable good  things  on  condition  of  being  alone;  for 
man  is  a  social  being,  and  by  nature  adapted  to  share 
his  life  with  others.  The  happy  man,  then,  must  have 
this  good,  since  he  has  whatever  is  naturally  good  for 
man.  But  it  is  obvious  that  it  is  better  to  live  with 
friends  and  good  people,  than  with  strangers  and  casual 
persons.     The  happy  man,  then,  must  have  friends. 

What,  then,  do  those  who  maintain  the  former  opinion 
mean?  and  in  what  sense  are  they  right?  Is  it  that  the 
generality  of  men  think  that  friends  means  useful  people? 
Friends  in  this  sense  certainly  the  happy  or  blessed  man 
will  not  need,  as  he  already  has  whatever  is  good.  And, 
again,  he  will  have  no  need,  or  but  little  need,  of  the 
friendship  that  is  based  on  pleasure;  for  his  life  is  pleasant 
and  does  not  require  adventitious  pleasure.  Because  he 
does  not  need  these  kinds  of  friends  then,  people  come  to 
think  he  does  not  need  friends  at  all. 

But  I  think  we  may  say  that  this  opinion  is  not  true. 
For  we  said  at  the  outset  that  happiness  is  a  certain 
exercise  of  our  faculties;  but  the  exercise  of  our  faculties 
plainly  comes  to  be  in  time,  and  is  not  like  a  piece  of 
property  acquired  once  for  all.     But  if  happiness  con- 


ARISTOTLE   OX   ETHICS  263 

sists  in  living  and  exercising  our  faculties;  and  if  the 
exercise  of  the  good  man's  faculties  is  good  and  pleasant 
in  itself,  as  we  said  at  the  outset;  and  if  the  sense  that  a 
thing  belongs  to  us  is  one  of  the  sources  of  pleasure,  but 
it  is  easier  to  contemplate  others  than  ourselves,  and 
others'  acts  than  our  own — then  the  acts  of  the  good 
men  who  are  his  friends  are  pleasant  to  the  good  man; 
for  both  the  natural  sources  of  pleasure  are  united  in 
them.  The  happy  or  blessed  man,  then,  will  need  such 
friends,  since  he  desires  to  contemplate  acts  that  are 
good  and  belong  to  him,  and  such  are  the  acts  of  a  good 
man  who  is  his  friend. 

Again,  it  is  thought  that  the  happy  man's  life  must  be 
pleasant.  Now,  if  he  is  solitary,  life  is  hard  for  him ;  for  it 
is  very  difficult  to  be  continuously  active  by  one's  self, 
but  not  so  difficult  along  with  others,  and  in  relation  to 
others.  With  friends,  then,  the  exercise  of  his  faculties 
will  be  more  continuous,  being  pleasant  in  itself.  And 
this  is  what  ought  to  be  the  case  with  the  blessed  man; 
for  the  good  man,  as  such,  delights  in  acts  of  virtue  and 
is  vexed  by  acts  of  vice,  just  as  a  musician  is  pleased 
by  good  music  and  pained  by  bad.  .  .  .  But  the  good 
man  stands  in  the  same  relation  to  his  friend  as  to 
himself,  for  his  friend  is  another  seK:  just  as  his  own 
existence,  then,  is  desirable  to  each,  so,  or  nearly  so,  is 
his  friend's  existence  desirable. 

But  existence,  we  found,  is  desirable  because  of  the 
feeling  that  one's  self  is  good,  such  a  feeling  being 
pleasant  in  itself. 

The  good  man,  then,  should  be  conscious  of  the  ex- 
istence of  his  friend  also,  and  this  consciousness  will  be 
given  by  living  with  him  and  by  rational  converse  with 
him  (for  this  would  seem  to  be  the  proper  meaning  of 


264      SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

living  together,  when  applied  to  man,  and  not  merely 
feeding  in  the  same  place,  which  it  means  when  applied 
to  beasts). 

Putting  all  this  together,  then,  if  his  own  existence  is 
desirable  in  itself  to  the  good  man,  being  naturally  good 
and  pleasant,  and  if  his  friend's  existence  is  also  desirable 
to  him  in  nearly  the  same  way,  it  follows  that  a  friend  is 
a  desirable  thing  for  him.  But  that  which  is  desirable 
for  him  he  ought  to  have,  or  in  that  respect  he  will  be 
incomplete.  Our  conclusion,  therefore,  is  that  he  who 
is  to  be  happy  must  have  good  friends. 

HIGHEST  HAPPINESS   FOUND    IN  THE   VISION   OF  TRUTH 

But  ^  if  happiness  be  the  exercise  of  virtue,  it  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  it  will  be  the  exercise  of  the  highest 
virtue;  and  that  will  be  the  virtue  or  excellence  of  the 
best  part  of  us. 

Now,  that  part  or  faculty — call  it  reason  or  what  you 
will — which  seems  naturally  to  rule  and  take  the  lead, 
and  to  apprehend  things  noble  and  divine — whether  it 
be  itseK  divine,  or  only  the  divinest  part  of  us — is  the 
faculty  the  exercise  of  which,  in  its  proper  excellence, 
will  be  perfect  happiness. 

That  this  consists  in  speculation  or  contemplation 
we  have  already  said. 

This  conclusion  would  seem  to  agree  both  with  what 
we  have  said  above,  and  with  known  truths. 

This  exercise  of  faculty  must  be  the  highest  possible; 
for  the  reason  is  the  highest  of  our  faculties,  and  of  all 
knowable  things  those  that  reason  deals  with  are  the 
highest. 

Again,  it  is  the  most  continuous ;  for  speculation  can  be 
» Arist.  Ethics,  X.  7,  1. 


ARISTOTLE   ON   ETHICS  265 

carried  on  more  continuously  than  any  kind  of  action 
whatsoever. 

We  think,  too,  that  pleasure  ought  to  be  one  of  the 
ingredients  of  happiness;  but  of  all  virtuous  exercises  it 
is  allowed  that  pleasantest  is  the  exercise  of  wisdom. 
At  least  philosophy  is  thought  to  have  pleasures  that  are 
admirable  in  purity  and  steadfastness;  and  it  is  reason- 
able to  suppose  that  the  time  passes  more  pleasantly 
with  those  who  possess,  than  with  those  who  are  seeking 
knowledge.  

Again,  what  is  called  self-sufficiency  will  be  most  of 
all  found  in  the  speculative  life.  The  necessaries  of  life, 
indeed,  are  needed  by  the  wise  man  as  well  as  by  the  just 
man  and  the  rest;  but,  when  these  have  been  provided 
in  due  quantity,  the  just  man  further  needs  persons 
towards  whom,  and  along  with  whom,  he  may  act  justly; 
and  so  does  the  temperate  and  the  courageous  man  and 
the  rest ;  while  the  wise  man  is  able  to  speculate  even  by 
himself,  and  the  wiser  he  is  the  more  is  he  able  to  do  this. 
He  could  speculate  better,  we  may  confess,  if  he  had 
others  to  help  him,  but  nevertheless  he  is  more  self- 
sufficient  than  anybody  else. 

Again,  it  would  seem  that  this  life  alone  is  desired 
solely  for  its  own  sake;  for  it  yields  no  result  beyond  the 
contemplation  itself,  while  from  all  actions  we  get  some- 
thing more  or  less  besides  the  action  itseK. 

Again,  happiness  is  thought  to  imply  leisure;  for  we 
toil  in  order  that  we  may  have  leisure,  as  we  make  war 
in  order  that  we  may  enjoy  peace.  .  .  . 

This,  then,  will  be  the  complete  happiness  of  man, 
i.  e.,  when  a  complete  term  of  days  is  added;  for  nothing 
incomplete  can  be  admitted  into  our  idea  of  happiness. 

But  a  life  which  realized  this  idea  would  be  something 


266       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

more  than  human;  for  it  would  not  be  the  expression  of 
man's  nature,  but  of  some  divine  element  in  that  nature 
— the  exercise  of  which  is  as  far  superior  to  the  exercise 
of  the  other  kind  of  virtue  [i.  e.,  practical  or  moral  virtue], 
as  this  divine  element  is  superior  to  our  compound 
human  nature. 

If  then  reason  be  divine  as  compared  with  man,  the 
life  which  consists  in  the  exercise  of  reason  will  also  be 
divine  in  comparison  with  human  life.  Nevertheless, 
instead  of  listening  to  those  who  advise  us  as  men 
and  mortals  not  to  lift  our  thoughts  above  what  is 
human  and  mortal,  we  ought  rather,  as  far  as  possible, 
to  put  off  our  mortality  and  make  every  effort  to  live 
in  the  exercise  of  the  highest  of  our  faculties ;  for  though 
it  be  but  a  small  part  of  us,  yet  in  power  and  value  it 
far  surpasses  all  the  rest. 

And  indeed  this  part  would  even  seem  to  constitute 
our  true  self,  since  it  is  the  sovereign  and  the  better  part. 
It  would  be  strange,  then,  if  a  man  were  to  prefer  the 
life  of  something  else  to  the  life  of  his  true  self. 

HOW   THE    END    IS    TO    BE    REALIZED 

Now  ^  that  we  have  treated  (sufficiently,  though  sum- 
marily) of  these  matters,  and  of  the  virtues,  and  also  of 
friendship  and  pleasure,  are  we  to  suppose  that  we  have 
attained  the  end  we  proposed?  Nay,  surely  the  saying 
holds  good,  that  in  practical  matters  the  end  is  not  a 
mere  speculative  knowledge  of  what  is  to  be  done,  but 
rather  the  doing  of  it.  It  is  not  enough  to  know  about 
virtue,  then,  but  we  must  endeavor  to  possess  it  and  to 
use  it,  or  to  take  any  other  steps  that  may  make  us  good. 

Now,  if  theories  alone  were  sufficient  to  make  people 

6  Arist.  Ethics,  X.  9,  1. 


ARISTOTLE  ON  ETHICS  267 

good,  they  would  deservedly  receive  many  and  great 
rewards,  to  use  the  words  of  Theognis;  but,  in  fact,  it 
seems  that  though  they  are  potent  to  guide  and  to 
stimulate  liberal-minded  young  men,  and  though  a 
generous  disposition,  with  a  sincere  love  of  what  is 
noble,  may  by  them  be  opened  to  the  influence  of  virtue, 
yet  they  are  powerless  to  turn  the  mass  of  men  to  good- 
ness. For  the  generality  of  men  are  naturally  apt  to 
be  swayed  by  fear  rather  than  by  reverence,  and  to 
refrain  from  evil  rather  because  of  the  pimishment  that 
it  brings  than  because  of  its  own  foulness.  For  under 
the  guidance  of  their  passions  they  pursue  the  pleasures 
that  suit  their  nature  and  the  means  by  which  those 
pleasures  may  be  obtained,  and  avoid  the  opposite  pains, 
while  of  that  which  is  noble  and  truly  pleasant  they  have 
not  even  a  conception,  as  they  have  never  tasted  it. 

What  theories  or  arguments,  then,  can  bring  such  men 
as  these  to  order?  Surely  it  is  impossible,  or  at  least 
very  difficult,  to  remove  by  any  argument  what  has  long 
been  ingrained  in  the  character.  For  my  part,  I  think 
we  must  be  well  content  if  we  can  get  some  modicum  of 
virtue  when  all  the  circumstances  are  present  that  seem 
to  make  men  good. 

Now,  what  makes  men  good  is  held  by  some  to  be 
nature,  by  others  habit  [or  training],  by  others  in- 
struction. 

As  for  the  goodness  that  comes  by  nature,  it  is  plain 
that  it  is  not  within  our  control,  but  is  bestowed  by  some 
divine  agency  on  certain  people  who  truly  deserve  to  be 
called  fortunate. 

As  for  theory  or  instruction,  I  fear  that  it  cannot 
avail  in  all  cases,  but  that  the  hearer's  soul  must  be 
prepared  by  training  it  to  feel  delight  and  aversion  on 


268       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

the  right  occasions,  just  as  the  soil  must  be  prepared  if 
the  seed  is  to  thrive.  For  if  he  hves  under  the  sway  of 
his  passions,  he  will  not  listen  to  the  arguments  by 
which  you  would  dissuade  him,  nor  even  understand 
them.  And  when  he  is  in  this  state,  how  can  you  change 
his  mind  by  argument?  To  put  it  roundly,  passion 
seems  to  yield  to  force  only,  and  not  to  reason.  The 
character,  then,  must  be  already  formed,  so  as  to  be  in 
some  way  akin  to  virtue,  loving  what  is  noble  and  hating 
what  is  base. 

But  to  get  right  guidance  from  youth  up  in  the  road 
of  virtue  is  hard,  unless  we  are  brought  up  under  suitable 
laws ;  for  to  live  temperately  and  regularly  is  not  pleasant 
to  the  generality  of  men,  especially  to  the  young.  Our 
nurture,  then,  should  be  prescribed  by  law,  and  our 
whole  way  of  life;  for  it  will  cease  to  be  painful  as  we  get 
accustomed  to  it.  And  I  venture  to  think  that  it  is  not 
enough  to  get  proper  nurture  and  training  when  we  are 
young,  but  that  as  we  ought  to  carry  on  the  same  way 
of  life  after  we  are  grown  up,  and  to  confirm  these  habits, 
we  need  the  intervention  of  the  law  in  these  matters 
also,  and  indeed,  to  put  it  roundly,  in  our  whole  life. 
For  the  generality  of  men  are  more  readily  swayed  by 
compulsion  than  by  reason,  and  by  fear  of  punishment 
than  by  desire  for  what  is  noble.  .  .  . 

Now,  the  paternal  rule  has  not  the  requisite  force  or 
power  of  compulsion,  nor  has  the  rule  of  any  individual, 
unless  he  be  a  king  or  something  like  one;  but  the  law  has 
a  compulsory  power,  and  at  the  same  time  is  a  rational 
ordinance  proceeding  from  a  kind  of  prudence  or  reason. 
And  whereas  we  take  offence  at  individuals  who  oppose  our 
inclinations,  even  though  their  opposition  is  right,  we  do 
not  feel  aggrieved  when  the  law  bids  us  do  what  is  right. 


XVII 

THE  STOICS  t 

THE   PARTS    OF    PHILOSOPHY THE    CRITERION   OF  TRUTH 

\       The  1  Stoics  said  that  wisdom  was  a  knowledge  of 

/  things  human  and  divine,  and  that  philosophy  was  the 

practice  of  an  art  contrived  to  bring  that  knowledge 

[ about.    The  one  art  suitable  to  this  purpose,  and  the 

highest  of  all,  they  said  was  virtue,  but  added  that  there 
were  three  generic  virtues,  the  physical,  the  ethical,  and 
the  logical.  And  for  this  reason  there  are  also  three 
parts  of  philosophy,  namely,  physics,  ethics,  and  logic. 
Whenever  we  investigate  the  cosmos,  and  the  things  that 
it  contains,  it  is  physics;  when  we  are  busily  concerned 
about  human  life,  it  is  ethics;  when  about  reason,  it  is 

logic,  or  as  it  is  also  called,  dialectic. 

* 
*  * 

The  2  Stoics  said  that  some  of  the  objects  of  sense 
and  some  of  the  objects  of  reason  were  true.  The 
objects  of  sense,  however,  were  not  true  straight  off,  but 
only  in  so  far  as  they  carried  one  back  to  their  attendant 
objects  of  reason.  True  is  that  which  belongs  to  and 
corresponds  with  something  or  other,  false  that  which 
does  not. 

lAetius.  Plac.  I.  (D.  Dox.  273). 
2  Sext.  Emp.  Adv.  Math.  VIII.  10. 

t  Zeno  of  Citium,  the  founder  of  the  Stoic  school,  flourished  about 
300  B.C.  Upon  his  death  in  264  (?)  he  was  succeeded  by  Cleanthes, 
who  died  about  220.     Chrysippus  was  born  in  280  and  died  in  207. 

269 


270       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

And  2  they  compare  philosophy  to  an  animal,  likening 
logic  to  the  bones  and  sinews,  natural  philosophy  to  the 
fleshy  parts,  and  ethical  philosophy  to  the  soul.  Again, 
they  compare  it  to  an  egg;  calling  logic  the  shell,  and 
ethics  the  white,  and  natural  philosophy  the  yolk.  Also 
to  a  fertile  field;  in  which  logic  is  the  fence  which  goes 
round  it,  ethics  are  the  fruit,  and  natural  philosophy  the 
soil,  or  the  fruit-trees.  Again,  they  compare  it  to  a  city 
fortified  by  walls,  and  regulated  by  reason;  and  then, 
as  some  of  them  say,  no  one  part  is  preferred  to  another, 
but  they  are  all  combined  and  united  inseparably;  and 
so  they  treat  of  them  all  in  combination.  But  others 
class  logic  first,  natural  philosophy  second,  and  ethics 
third.  .  .  . 

Some  again  say  that  the  logical  division  is  properly 
subdivided  into  two  sciences;  namely,  rhetoric  and 
dialectics;  and  some  divide  it  also  into  definitive  species, 
which  is  conversant  with  rules  and  tests;  while  others 
deny  the  propriety  of  the  last  division  altogether,  and 
argue  that  the  object  of  rules  and  tests  is  the  discovery 
of  the  truth;  for  it  is  in  this  division  that  they  explain 
the  differences  of  representations.  They  also  argue  that, 
on  the  other  side,  the  science  of  definitions  has  equally 
for  its  object  the  discovery  of  truth,  since  we  only  know 
things  by  the  intervention  of  ideas.  .  .  . 

Demonstration  they  define  to  be  a  method  by  which 
one  proceeds  from  that  which  is  more  known  to  that 
which  is  less.  Perception,  again,  is  an  impression 
produced  on  the  mind,  its  name  being  appropriately 

'From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  p.  274.  The 
pasgages  taken  from  Diogenes  Laertius  are  all  given  in  Yonge's 
translation,  which,  however,  I  have  ventured  to  change  in  a  few 


THE  STOICS  271 

borrowed  from  impressions  on  wax  made  by  a  seal;  and 
perception  they  divide  into  perception  which  has  con- 
vincing power,  and  perception  which  lacks  convincing 
power.  Perception  which  has  convincing  power — and 
this  they  call  the  criterion  of  facts — is  produced  by  a  real 
object,  and  is  therefore  at  the  same  time  conformable 
to  that  object.  Perception  which  lacks  convincing 
power  has  no  relation  to  any  real  object,  or  else,  if  it 
has  any  such  relation,  does  not  correspond  to  it,  being 
but  a  vague  and  indistinct  representation.  .  .  . 

The  Stoics  have  chosen  to  treat,  in  the  first  place,  of 
perception  and  sensation,  because  the  criterion  by  which 
the  truth  of  facts  is  ascertained  is  a  kind  of  percep- 
tion, and  because  the  judgment  which  expresses  assent 
and  conviction,  and  the  understanding  of  a  thing,  a 
judgment  which  precedes  all  others,  cannot  exist  with- 
out perception.  For  perception  leads  the  way;  and 
then  thought,  finding  vent  in  expressions,  explains  in 
words  the  feehngs  which  it  derives  from  perception. 
^amaa-ia  is  an  impression,  TV7r(oa-L<;,  produced  on  the 
mind,  that  is  to  say,  an  alteration,  oXKoIccktl^,  as 
Chrysippus  states  in  the  twelfth  book  of  his  Treatise  on 
the  Soul.  For  we  must  not  take  this  impression  to 
resemble  that  made  by  a  seal,  since  it  is  impossible  to 
conceive  that  there  should  be  many  impressions  made 
at  the  same  time  on  the  same  thing.  But  (fiavraaUt 
is  understood  to  be  that  which  is  impressed,  and  formed, 
and  imprinted  by  a  real  object,  according  to  a  real  object, 
in  such  a  way  as  it  could  not  be  by  any  other  than  a  real 
object;  and,  according  to  their  ideas  of  the  <l>avTa<7lai, 
some  are  sensible,  and  some  are  not.  Those  they  call 
sensible,  which  are  derived  by  us  from  some  one  or  more 
senses,  and  those  they  call  not  sensible,  which  emanate 


272       SOURCE  BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

directly  from  the  thought,  as,  for  instance,  those  which 
relate  to  incorporeal  objects,  or  any  others  which  are 
embraced  by  reason.  Again,  those  which  are  sensible 
are  produced  by  a  real  object,  which  imposes  itself  on 
the  intelligence,  and  compels  its  acquiescence;  and  there 
are  also  some  others,  which  are  simply  apparent,  mere 
shadows,  which  resemble  those  which  are  produced  by 
real  objects.  .  .  . 

They  say  that  the  proper  criterion  of  truth  is  the  im- 
pression that  comes  with  convincing  force  (KaraXTjimfcrf 
<j>avTacrla) ;  that  is  to  say,  one  which  is  derived  from 
a  real  object,  as  Chrysippus  asserts  in  the  tweKth  book 
of  his  Physics;  and  he  is  followed  by  Antipater  and 
ApoUodorus.  For  Boethius  leaves  a  great  many  criteria, 
such  as  intellect,  sensation,  appetite,  and  knowledge;  but 
Chrysippus  dissents  from  his  view,  and  in  the  first  book 
of  his  Treatise  on  Reason,  says  that  sensation  and  pre- 
conception are  the  only  criteria.  And  preconception 
is,  according  to  him,  a  comprehensive  physical  notion 
of  general  principles.  But  others  of  the  earlier  Stoics 
admit  right  reason  as  one  criterion  of  the  truth. 

ETHICS — FOLLOWING   NATURE 

They  *  say  that  the  first  inclination  which  an  animal 
has  is  to  protect  itself,  as  nature  brings  herself  to  take 
an  interest  in  it  from  the  beginning,  as  Chrysippus 
affirms  in  the  first  book  of  his  Treatise  on  Ends;  where  he 
says  that  the  first  and  dearest  object  to  every  animal  is 
its  own  existence,  and  its  consciousness  of  that  existence 
For  that  it  is  not  natural  for  any  animal  to  be  aUenated 
from  itself,  or  even  to  be  brought  into  such  a  state  as  to 
be  indifferent  to  itself,  being  neither  alienated  from  nor 
•  From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  p.  290. 


I    .  THE  STOICS  273 

itself.  It  remains,  therefore,  that  we  must 
assert  that  nature  has  bound  the  animal  to  itself  by  the 
greatest  unanimity  and  affection;  for  by  that  means  it 
repels  all  that  is  injurious,  and  attracts  all  that  is  akin  to 
it  and  desirable.  But  as  for  what  some  people  say,  that 
the  first  inclination  of  animals  is  to  pleasure,  they  say 
what  is  false.  For  the  Stoics  say  that  pleasure,  if  there 
be  any  such  thing  at  all,  is  an  accessory  only,  which 
nature,  having  sought  it  out  by  itseK,  as  well  as  those 
things  which  are  adapted  to  its  constitution,  receives 
incidentally  in  the  same  manner  as  animals  are  pleased, 
and  plants  made  to  flourish. 

Moreover,  say  they,  nature  makes  no  difference  be- 
tween animals  and  plants,  when  she  regulates  them  so  as 
to  leave  them  without  voluntary  motion  or  sense;  and 
some  things  too  take  place  in  ourselves  in  the  same 
manner  as  in  plants.  But,  as  inclination  in  animals 
tends  chiefly  to  the  point  of  making  them  pursue  what 
is  appropriate  to  them,  we  may  say  that  their  inclina- 
tions are  regulated  by  nature.  And  as  reason  is  given  to 
rational  animals  according  to  a  more  perfect  principle, 
it  follows,  that  to  live  correctly  according  to  reason,  is 
properly  predicated  of  those  who  live  according  to  na- 
ture. For  nature  is  as  it  were  the  artist  who  produces 
the  inclination. 

On  which  account  Zeno  was  the  first  writer  who,  in 
his  Treatise  on  the  Nature  of  Man,  said  that  the  chief 
good  was  confessedly  to  live  according  to  nature;  which 
is  to  live  according  to  virtue,  for  nature  leads  us  to  this 
point.  And  in  like  manner  Clean thes  speaks  in  his 
Treatise  on  Pleasure,  and  so  do  Posidonius  and  Hecaton 
in  their  essays  on  Ends  and  the  Chief  Good.  And  again, 
to  live  according  to  virtue  is  the  same  thing  as  living 


274       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

according  to  one's  experience  of  those  things  which 
happen  by  nature;  as  Chrysippus  explains  it  in  the  first 
book  of  his  Treatise  on  the  Chief  Good.  For  our  in- 
-^  dividual  natures  are  all  parts  of  universal  nature;  on 
which  account  the  chief  good  is  to  live  in  a  manner  cor- 
responding to  nature,  and  that  means  corresponding  to 
one's  own  nature  and  to  universal  nature;  doing  none  of 
those  things  which  the  common  law  of  mankind  is  in  the 
habit  of  forbidding,  and  that  common  law  is  identical 
with  that  right  reason  which  pervades  everything,  being 
the  same  with  Jupiter,  who  is  the  regulator  and  chief 
manager  of  all  existing  things. 

Again,  this  very  thing  is  the  virtue  of  the  happy  man 
and  the  perfect  happiness  of  life  when  everything  is  done 
according  to  a  harmony  with  the  genius  of  each  individual 
with  reference  to  the  will  of  the  universal  governor  and 
manager  of  all  things.  Diogenes,  accordingly,  says  ex- 
pressly that  the  chief  good  is  to  act  according  to  sound 
reason  in  our  selection  of  things  according  to  our  nature. 
And  Archidemus  defines  it  to  be  living  in  the  discharge 
of  all  becoming  duties.  Chrysippus  again  understands, 
that  the  nature,  in  a  manner  corresponding  to  which  we 
ought  to  live,  is  both  the  common  nature,  and  also  human 
nature  in  particular;  but  Clean thes  will  not  admit  of 
any  other  nature  than  the  common  one  alone,  as  that 
to  which  people  ought  to  live  in  a  manner  corresponding; 
and  repudiates  all  mention  of  a  particular  nature.  And 
he  asserts  that  virtue  is  a  disposition  of  the  mind  always 
consistent  and  harmonious ;  that  one  ought  to  seek  it  out 
for  its  own  sake,  without  being  influenced  by  fear  or  hope 
of  any  external  influence.  Moreover,  that  it  is  in  it  that 
.  happiness  consists,  as  producing  in  the  soul  the  harmony 
'^'"^    of  a  life  always  consistent  with  itself,  and  that  if  a 


THE  STOICS  275 

rational  animal  goes  the  wrong  way,  it  is  because  it 
allows  itself  to  be  misled  by  the  deceitful  appearances 
of  exterior  things,  or  perhaps  by  the  instigation  of  those 
who  surround  it;  for  nature  herself  never  gives  us  any 
but  good  inclinations.  .  .  . 

And  they  lay  down  the  position  that  all  offences  are 
equal,  as  Chrysippus  argues  in  the  fourth  book  of  his 
Ethic  Questions,  and  so  say  Persseus  and  Zeno.  For  if 
one  thing  that  is  true  is  not  more  true  than  another  thing 
that  is  true,  neither  is  one  thing  that  is  false  more  false 
than  another  thing  that  is  false;  so,  too,  one  deceit  is  not 
greater  than  another,  nor  one  sin  than  another.  For 
the  man  who  is  a  himdred  furlongs  from  Canopus, 
and  the  man  who  is  only  one,  are  both  equally  not  in 
Canopus;  and  so,  too,  he  who  commits  a  greater  sin, 
and  he  who  commits  a  less,  are  both  equally  not  in  the 
right  path.  .  .  . 

They  say  also  that  the  wise  man  is  free  from  perturba- 
tions because  he  has  no  strong  propensities.  But  that 
this  freedom  from  propensities  also  exists  in  the  bad 
man,  being,  however,  then  quite  another  thing,  inasmuch 
as  it  proceeds  in  him  only  from  hardness  and  unimpressi- 
bility  of  his  nature.  They  also  pronounce  the  wise  man 
free  from  vanity,  since  he  regards  with  equal  eye  what 
is  glorious  and  what  is  inglorious.  At  the  same  time, 
they  admit  that  there  is  another  character  devoid  of 
vanity,  who,  however,  is  only  reckoned  one  of  the  rash 
men,  being  in  fact  the  bad  man.  They  also  say  that  all 
the  virtuous  men  are  austere,  because  they  do  never 
speak  with  reference  to  pleasure,  nor  do  they  listen  to 
what  is  said  by  others  with  reference  to  pleasure.  At 
the  same  time,  they  call  another  man  austere  too,  using 
the  term  in  nearly  the  same  sense  as  they  do  when  they 


276       SOURCE   BOOK   IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

speak  of  austere  wine,  which  is  used  in  compounding 
medicines,  but  not  for  drinking. 

^  They  also  pronounce  the  wise  to  be  honest-hearted 
men,  anxiously  attending  to  those  matters  which  may 
make  them  better,  by  means  of  some  principle  which 
conceals  what  is  bad,  and  brings  to  light  what  is  good. 
Nor  is  there  any  hypocrisy  about  them;  for  they  cut  off 
all  pretence  in  their  voice  and  appearance.  They  also 
keep  aloof  from  business ;  for  they  guard  carefully  against 
doing  anything  contrary  to  their  duty.  They  drink 
wine,  but  they  do  not  get  drunk;  and  they  never  yield 
to  frenzy.  Occasionally,  extraordinary  imaginations 
may  obtain  a  momentary  power  over  them,  owing  to 
some  melancholy  or  trifling,  arising  not  according  to  the 
principle  of  what  is  desirable,  but  contrary  to  nature. 
Nor,  again,  will  the  wise  man  feel  grief;  because  grief  is 
an  irrational  contraction  of  the  soul,  as  Apollodorus  de- 
fines it  in  his  Ethics.  .  .  . 

And  they  say  that  virtues  reciprocally  follow  one 
another,  and  that  he  who  has  one  has  all;  for  that  the 
precepts  of  them  all  are  common.  .  .  . 

Another  doctrine  of  the  Stoics  is,  that  there  is  nothing 
intermediate  between  virtue  and  vice;  while  the  Peri- 
patetics assert  that  there  is  a  stage  between  virtue  and 
vice,  being  an  improvement  on  vice  which  has  not  yet 
arrived  at  virtue.  For  the  Stoics  say  that  as  a  stick 
must  be  either  straight  or  crooked,  so  a  man  must  be 
either  just  or  unjust,  and  cannot  be  more  just  than  just, 
or  more  unjust  than  unjust;  and  that  the  same  rule 
applies  to  all  cases.  Moreover,  Chrysippus  is  of  opinion 
that  virtue  can  be  lost,  but  Cleanthes  affirms  that  it 
cannot;  the  one  saying  that  it  can  be  lost  by  drunkenness 
or  melancholy,  the  other  maintaining  that  it  cannot  be 


THE  STOICS  277 

lost  on  account  of  the  firm  perceptions  which  it  implants 
in  men.  They  also  pronounce  it  a  proper  object  of 
choice;  accordingly,  we  are  ashamed  of  actions  which  we 
do  improperly,  while  we  are  aware  that  what  is  honorable 
is  the  only  good.  Again,  they  affirm  that  it  is  of  itself 
sufficient  for  happiness.  .  .  . 

Again,  they  say  that  justice  exists  by  nature,  and  not 
because  of  any  definition  or  principle;  just  as  law  does, 
or  right  reason,  as  Chrysippus  tells  us  in  his  Treatise  on 
the  Beautiful;  and  they  think  that  one  ought  not  to 
abandon  philosophy  on  account  of  the  different  opinions 
prevailing  among  philosophers,  since  on  this  principle 
one  would  wholly  quit  life. 

THE   HYMN    OF    CLEANTHES 

Most  ^  glorious  of  immortals,  0  thou  of  many  names, 
all-powerful  ever,  hail !  On  thee  it  is  fit  all  men  should 
call.  For  we  come  forth  from  thee,  and  have  received  the 
gift  of  imitative  speech  alone  of  all  that  live  and  move  on 
earth.  So  will  I  make  my  song  of  thee  and  chant  thy 
power  forever.  Thee  all  this  ordered  universe,  circling 
around  the  earth,  follows  as  thou  dost  guide  and  ever- 
more is  ruled  by  thee.  For  such  an  engine  hast  thou  in 
thine  unswerving  hands — the  two-edged,  blazing,  ever- 
living  bolt — that  at  its  blow  all  nature  trembles.  Here- 
with thou  guidest  universal  Reason — the  moving  prin- 
ciple of  all  the  world,  joined  with  the  great  and  lesser 
lights — which,  being  born  so  great,  is  highest  lord  of  all. 
Nothing  occurs  on  earth  apart  from  thee,  0  Lord,  nor 
at  the  airy  sacred  pole  nor  on  the  sea,  save  what  the 
wicked  work  through  lack  of  wisdom.     But  thou  canst 

» I  am  indebted  to  Prof.  G.  H.  Palmer  for  this  translation  of  the 
Hymn  of  Cleanthes. 


278       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

make  the  crooked  straight,  bring  order  from  disorder, 
and  what  is  worthless  is  in  thy  sight  worthy.  For  thou 
hast  so  conjoined  to  one  all  good  and  ill  that  out  of 
all  goes  forth  a  single  everlasting  Reason.  This  all  the 
wicked  seek  to  shun,  unhappy  men,  who,  ever  longing 
to  obtain  a  good,  see  not  nor  hear  God's  imiversal  law; 
which,  wisely  heeded,  would  assure  them  noble  life. 
They  haste  away,  however,  heedless  of  good,  one  here, 
one  there;  some  showing  unholy  zeal  in  strife  for  honor, 
some  turning  recklessly  toward  gain,  others  to  looseness 
and  the  body's  pleasures.  But  thou,  0  Zeus,  giver  of  all, 
thou  of  the  cloud,  guide  of  the  thunder,  deliver  men  from 
baleful  ignorance!  Scatter  it,  father,  from  our  souls, 
grant  us  to  win  that  wisdom  on  which  thou  thyself  re- 
lying suitably  guidest  all;  that  thus  being  honored,  we 
may  return  to  thee  our  honor,  singing  thy  works  un- 
ceasingly; because  there  is  no  higher  office  for  a  man — 
nor  for  a  god — than  ever  rightly  singing  of  imiversal  law. 


PLUTARCH'S  REFUTATION  OF  THE  STOIC 
THEODICY^ 

In  ^  the  third  book  of  his  Treatise  on  The  Gods  Chrysip- 
pus  writes  as  follows:  ^'Just  as  states  which  have  a  sur- 
plus population  send  great  numbers  out  to  colonies,  and 
stir  up  wars  against  their  neighbors,  so  God  provides 
occasions  for  our  destruction."  And  he  cites  Euripides 
and  other  writers  who  maintained  that  the  Trojan  War 

1  Plutarch,  De  Stoicorum   Repugnantiis,  §§  32-37. 

t  For  the  suggestion  to  include  these  interesting  and  illuminating 
passages  from  Plutarch  I  am  indebted  to  Dr.  B.  A.  G.  Fuller,  and 
the  translation  of  them  which  is  here  given  is  his. 


THE  STOICS  279 

was  brought  about  by  the  gods  because  of  the  super- 
abundancy  of  men. 

Now  leave  aside  all  the  other  absurdities — for  it  is 
not  our  business  here  to  inquire  whether  the  Stoics 
have  spoken  the  truth,  but  only  whether  they  have 
contradicted  themselves — and  consider  this  one  point. 
They  are  always  giving  fine  and  humane  names  to  God, 
yet  they  attribute  to  him  savage  and  barbarous  deeds, 
yea,  deeds  worthy  of  the  Galatse.  For  the  enormous 
destruction  and  wholesale  slaughter  of  men  such  as  was 
entailed  by  the  Trojan  War,  or  again  by  the  Persian  and 
the  Peloponnesian  Campaigns,  bears  no  resemblance  to 
colonization,  unless  the  gods  were  intending  to  found 
some  underground  cities  in  Hades.  Chrysippus  rather 
makes  God  like  one  Deiotarus,  chief  of  the  Galatse.  He 
had  many  children  born  to  him,  but  wished  to  leave  his 
power  and  all  his  property  to  one  alone.  So  he  killed  all 
the  rest  off,  just  as  one  might  cut  back  and  prune  the 
new  shoots  of  a  vine,  in  order  that  some  one  which  was 
left  might  grow  strong  and  big.  A  vine-dresser,  it  goes 
without  saying,  does  this,  while  the  twigs  are  still  small 
and  insignificant.  And  we  are  merciful  to  the  dog  and 
destroy  the  surplus  puppies  just  after  they  are  born 
and  before  their  eyes  are  yet  open.  But  Zeus  not  only 
allows  men  to  grow  up ;  he  even  begets  them  himself  and 
brings  them  up  to  manhood,  and  then,  forsooth,  carefully 
contrives  occasions  for  their  death  and  destruction  and 
brutally  sends  them  out  of  the  world.  I  think  he  had 
better  not  have  provided  the  causes  and  sources  of  our 
birth. 

This,  however,  is  of  minor  importance  compared  to 
what  follows.  No  war  arises  among  men  without  vicious- 
ness  behind  it.    Love  of  luxury  stirs  up  the  one,  avarice 


2S0       !^URCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

another,  ambition  a  third,  lust  for  power  a  fourth. 
Now  if  it  be  God  who  brings  wars  to  pass,  he  is  also  the 
cause  of  our  vices,  provoking  and  perverting  mankind 
as  he  does.  Nevertheless  Chrysippus  says  in  his  Treatise 
on  Law  Procedure,  and  again  in  the  second  book  of  his 
Treatise  on  The  Gods,  that  ''it  is  not  reasonable  that  the 
deity  should  be  the  cause  of  base  deeds.  For  just  as  a 
law  cannot  be  the  cause  of  its  contravention,  so  neither 
can  the  gods  be  the  cause  of  impiety.  It  is  then 
reasonable  that  they  should  not  be  the  causes  of  anything 
base.'' 

But,  I  say,  can  anything  be  more  base  than  that  men 
should  destroy  one  another?  And  for  this  destruction 
Chrysippus  says  that  God  is  responsible.  I  will  swear 
to  it,  however,  that  some  one  will  say  that  he  also  praises 
the  saying  of  Euripides : 

If  gods  do  aught  that's  base,  they  are  not  gods, 
and 

Thou  say'st  an  easy  thing — to  blame  the  gods, 

as  if  we  were  now  doing  anything  but  showing  up  his 
contradictory  sayings  and  ideas. 

This  very  saying,  however,  which  now  meets  with 
approval,  'Thou  say'st  an  easy  thing — to  blame  the 
gods" — can  be  urged  against  Chrysippus  not  once,  or 
twice,  or  thrice,  but  innumerable  times.  For  in  the 
first  book  in  the  Treatise  on  Nature,  in  hkening  the  cause 
of  motion  to  a  mixture  of  things  whirling  and  churning 
in  all  directions,  he  speaks  thus,  "Since  the  world- 
economy  proceeds  in  this  fashion,  it  is  due  to  it  that  we 
are  as  we  are  at  every  moment,  whether  contrary  to  our 
proper  nature  we  suffer  disease  or  disability,  or  be 
grammarians  or  musicians."    And  again  a  little  later  he 


THE  STOICS  281 

says,  ''By  this  reasoning  the  same  holds  true  of  our  virtues 
and  vices,  and  in  general  of  our  skill  in  the  arts  or  lack 
of  it,  as  I  have  said."  And  a  hne  or  two  later,  without 
any  ambiguity  he  remarks,  ''No  single  or  slightest  thing 
can  happen  except  in  accordance  with  the  common 
nature  and  its  reason."  That  the  common  nature  and 
the  common  reason  of  this  nature  are  fate,  and  providence, 
and  Zeus,  is  something  of  which  not  even  the  dwellers 
in  the  antipodes  are  unaware,  for  this  truth  is  noised 
about  by  the  Stoics  everywhere,  and  Chrysippus  remarks 
''that  Homer  rightly  said,  'The  will  of  Zeus  is  done,' 
referring  to  that  fate  and  that  nature  of  the  universe 
according  to  which  all  things  are  governed." 

How  now,  I  ask,  can  God  be  the  author  of  nothing  base, 
and  yet  at  the  same  time  not  the  slightest  thing  happen 
otherwise  than  according  to  the  common  nature  and  its 
reason?  For  since  evils  belong  in  the  sum  of  events  they 
are,  I  presume,  to  be  ascribed  to  God.  Even  Epicurus 
turns  and  twists  and  thinks  up  subtleties  to  free  and 
release  the  will  from  the  eternal  motion  of  the  world- 
mechanism,  in  order  that  vice  may  not  be  left  blameless. 
Chrysippus,  however,  concedes  to  vice  complete  hcense, 
as  something  which  is  not  only  necessary  and  destined, 
but  also  in  accordance  with  the  divine  reason,  and 
produced  agreeably  to  that  nature  which  is  supremely 
good.  Look,  for  instance,  at  this  statement  of  his: 
''The  common  nature  is  spread  throughout  all  things, 
and  hence  everything  whatsoever  which  happens  in  the 
imiverse  and  every  part  thereof  happens  in  accordance 
with  it  and  its  reason,  and  follows  therefrom  without  any 
hindrance.  For  there  is  nothing  outside  the  universe  to 
oppose  its  workings,  nor  can  any  one  of  its  parts  be 
moved  or  conditioned  otherwise  than  agreeably  to  the 


282       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

common  nature."  What,  now,  are  the  conditions  and 
motions  of  its  parts?  Evidently  the  conditions  are  vices 
and  diseases,  avarice,  luxury,  ambition,  fear,  injustice; 
and  the  motions  are  adultery,  theft,  treachery,  murder, 
and  parricide.  None  of  these,  then,  great  or  small,  is 
thought  by  Chrysippus  to  exist  contrary  to  the  reason, 
the  law,  the  justice,  the  providence  of  Zeus,  nor  do  law- 
less acts  exist  contrary  to  law,  nor  injustice  to  justice, 
nor  evil-doing  to  providence. 

Chrysippus  says,  however,  ^'that  God  punishes  vice, 
and  does  much  in  the  way  of  punishing  wicked  men.'' 
Likewise  in  the  second  book  of  the  Treatise  on  The  Gods 
he  says  that  ' 'misfortunes  happen  sometimes  to  good 
men,  not  for  punishment  as  with  the  wicked,  but  in 
accordance  with  some  other  line  of  administration,  as  in 
the  case  of  cities."  Again,  his  words  run  as  follows: 
"In  the  first  place  evils  are  to  be  understood  in  pretty 
much  the  aforesaid  way,  and  secondly  as  apportioned 
according  to  the  reason  of  Zeus,  either  for  punishment, 
or  agreeably  to  some  other  scheme  of  administration  to 
the  advantage  of  the  whole."  It  is,  however,  a  horrible 
thing  that  vice  should  be  both  produced  and  punished 
agreeably  to  the  reason  of  Zeus.  And  Chrysippus 
pushes  the  contradiction  still  further  when  he  writes  in 
the  second  book  of  the  Treatise  on  Nature,  that  ''Vice 
/  has  a  peculiar  and  reasonable  fitness  viewed  in  relation 
i  to  terrible  calamities.  It  is  produced  in  a  way  agreeably 
to  the  universal  reason,  and  its  production  is  not  without 
benefit  to  the  universe.  For  without  it,  there  would  be 
\  no  good."  And  this  is  the  man  who  reproves  those  who 
argue  with  equal  force  to  the  opposite  conclusion;  this 
man  who,  wishing  in  every  case  to  get  off  some  odd  and 
subtle  remark  about  the  universe,  maintains  that  cut- 


THE  STOICS  283 

pursing  and  flattery  and  foolishness  are  not  without  their 
uses,  that  the  good  for  nothing  are  good  for  something, 
and  the  noxious  and  the  miserable  are  not  imbeneficial. 
Again  what  kind  of  a  being  is  Zeus — I  mean,  of  course, 
Chrysippus's  Zeus — to  punish  what  is  neither  responsi- 
ble for  itself  nor  uselessly  produced?  For  according  to 
Chrysippus's  w^ay  of  arguing,  it  is  not  vice  that  is  to  be 
blamed,  but  Zeus,  either  because  he  made  vice  to  no  use, 
or  because,  having  made  it  to  some  use,  he  punishes  it. 

Once  more,  in  the  first  book  of  the  Treatise  on  Justice, 
Chrysippus  says  that  the  gods  resist  some  unjust  deeds, 
yet  that  ''it  is  neither  possible  nor  expedient  to  remove 
vice  from  the  universe."  If,  however,  it  be  inexpedient 
to  do  away  with  lawlessness,  injustice,  and  foolishness, 
it  is  impossible  for  him  to  pursue  his  present  argument. 
For  he  himself  in  doing  all  he  can  by  philosophizing  to 
do  away  with  vice — which  it  is  not  expedient  to  do  away 
with — is  doing  something  repugnant  both  to  reason 
and  to  God.  Yet  when  he  says  as  well  that  the  gods 
resist  some  unrighteous  deeds,  he  gives  the  impression 
that  these  sins  are  impious. 

In  another  place  where  he  writes  many  times  that 
nothing  is  blameworthy  or  contemptible  in  the  universe, 
since  everything  takes  place  agreeably  to  the  supremely 
good  nature,  there  are  yet  passages  where  some  neglect 
in  small  and  mean  matters  is  allowed  not  to  be  repre- 
hensible. Thus  in  the  third  book  of  the  Treatise  on 
Substance,  in  reminding  us  that  noble  and  good  men  are 
the  victims  of  such  neglect,  he  asks  ''whether  some  things 
may  not  be  neglected,  just  as  in  great  houses  some  grains 
of  corn  and  wheat  fall  unnoticed,  though  the  household 
as  a  whole  is  well  managed?  Or  is  this  neglect  due  to 
the  presence  in  such  cases  of  evil  spirits,  in  whom  a 


284      SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

reprehensible  carelessness  is  naturally  inherent?"  And 
he  adds  that  there  is  a  large  admixture  of  necessity  in 
things.  Now  I  pass  over  the  recklessness  of  Ukening  to 
the  unnoticed  fall  of  grains  of  wheat  such  misfortunes  of 
good  and  noble  men  as  the  condemnation  of  Socrates, 
and  the  burning  alive  of  Pythagoras  by  the  Cylonians, 
and  the  torture  and  death  of  Zeno  at  the  hands  of  the 
tyrant  Demylus,  and  of  Antiphon  by  Dionysius.  But  is 
it  not  to  blame  God,  to  say  that  evil  spirits  were  prov- 
identially appointed  to  such  offices?  For  God  in  that 
case  would  be  like  a  king  who  handed  over  his  provinces 
to  evil  and  stupid  satraps  and  generals,  and  then  over- 
looked their  neglect  and  ill-treatment  of  his  best  sub- 
jects. Finally,  if  there  be  a  large  admixture  of  necessity 
in  things,  God  is  not  all  powerful  and  all  things  are  not 
administered  according  to  his  word. 

*  * 

But  2  what  fault  can  any  one  find  with  what  I  have 
said  if  he  keeps  in  mind  the  passage  in  the  second  book 
of  the  Treatise  on  Nature  in  which  Chrysippus  shows 
that  evil  is  produced  to  some  benefit  to  the  universe? 
It  is  worth  while  to  take  this  doctrine  and  compare  it 
with  those  sayings  of  his  in  which  you  will  find  he  accuses 
Xenocrates  and  Speusippus  of  not  regarding  health  as 
indifferent,  and  wealth  as  useless,  and  in  the  same  place 
defines  vice,  and  discourses  about  it.  ''Vice,"  he  says, 
*'is  distinguished  from  other  calamities.  For  it  happens 
agreeably  to  the  rational  constitution  of  nature,  and,  so 
to  speak,  does  not  happen  without  some  benefit  to  the 
universe.     For  did  it  not  exist  there  would  be  no  good." 

There  is  then  nothing  good  among  the  gods  when 
there  is  nothing  evil.     ^Yhen  Zeus  shall  have  consumed 

^  De  Communihus  Notitiis,  §§  13-16. 


THE  STOICS  285 

the  whole  of  matter  within  himself,  and  shall  have  become 
one,  having  cast  out  all  differences  and  distinctions, 
then  there  will  be  no  good,  since  there  is  no  evil.  Still, 
one  might  object,  a  chorus  can  sing  in  harmony,  though 
no  one  in  it  sing  out  of  tune;  and  a  body  can  be  healthy 
even  though  no  part  of  it  be  diseased. 

However,  Chrysippus  maintains  that  virtue  cannot 
exist  without  vice,  and  that  just  as  the  venom  of  the 
serpent  or  the  bile  of  the  hyena  is  necessary  to  the 
efficacy  of  some  medicines,  so  a  suitable  admixture  of 
the  wickedness  of  Meletus  is  necessary  to  the  righteous- 
ness of  Socrates,  or  of  the  vulgarity  of  Cleon  to  the  no- 
bility of  Pericles.  How,  too,  could  Zeus  create  Hercules 
and  Lycurgus,  unless  he  also  created  Sardanapalus  and 
Phalaris  for  us?  Chrysippus  might  as  reasonably  add, 
also,  that  tuberculosis  promotes  human  health,  and  gout 
swiftness  of  foot;  also  that  Achilles  could  not  have  had  a 
fine  head  of  hair  unless  Thersites  had  been  bald.  For 
what  is  the  difference  between  such  nonsense  and  drivel, 
and  saying  that  w^antonness  conduces  to  continence,  or 
unrighteousness  to  righteousness?  And  how  are  we  to 
pray  the  gods  that 

Lies  and  oily  words  and  wily  ways 

may  be  ever  evil  in  their  sight,  if  virtue  also  vanishes  and 
is  destroyed  when  they  are  done  away  with? 

Would  you  really  like  to  know,  however,  the  most 
charming  bit  of  his  smoothness  and  persuav'ion?  ''Just 
as  comedians,"  he  says,  ''put  in  ridiculous  lines  which 
are  poor  stuff  in  themselves  but  lend  a  certain  charm  to 
the  whole  piece,  so  what  you  censure  as  evil,  taken  by 
itself,  is  not  without  its  use  in  relation  to  other  things." 
Now,  in  the  first  place,  that  vice  has  been  produced  by 


286       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

divine  providence,  as  a  poor  line  is  intentionally  writ- 
ten by  the  playwright,  is  the  most  absurd  of  opinions. 
Supposing  it  were  so,  how  should  the  gods  be  any  more 
the  g;ivers  of  good  than  of  evil?  How  could  vice  be 
inimical  to  the  gods,  and  hateful  in  their  sight?  What 
could  we  reply  to  such  blasphemy  as 

When  God  will  injure  mortals  he  creates  the  reason  why 
and 

Who  forced  them  to  fight  in  the  battles  of  gods? 

In  the  second  place  the  poor  line  adorns  the  comedy 
and  contributes  to  its  purpose  of  arousing  laughter  and 
pleasing  the  audience.  But  surely  father  Zeus,  the  most 
high,  the  all-just,  the  all-good  creator,  as  Pindar  calls 
him,  did  not  make  this  world  as  a  big  and  varied  and 
clever  play,  but  as  a  commonwealth  of  gods  and  men 
wherein  they  might  live  together  as  comrades  amid 
righteousness  and  virtue  in  concord  and  blessedness. 
And  to  this  most  beautiful  and  holy  end,  I  say,  what 
need  was  there  of  robbers  and  murderers,  parricides  and 
lyrants  ?  For  in  the  eyes  of  God  vice  is  not  a  charming 
and  clever  by-play,  nor  is  unrighteousness  inflicted  for 
the  sake  of  coarse  joking  and  laughter  and  jest,  upon 
human  hfe — a  life  such  that  it  wdll  not  permit  one  even 
to  dream  of  the  Stoics'  renowned  ' 'harmony. '^ 

Again  the  poor  line  is  but  a  trivial  part  of  the  play 
and  in  all  respects  occupies  but  a  small  place  in  the 
comedy.  There  are  not  many  such  lines,  and  they  do 
not  destroy  or  spoil  the  charm  of  such  passages  as  seem 
well-written.  But  all  things  are  full  of  vice,  and  our 
whole  life  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave  is  shameful  and 
disgraceful  and  troublous,  and  as  there  is  no  part  of  it 


THE   STOICS  287 

pure  and  blameless,  as  they  themselves  say,  is  the  basest 
and  saddest  of  all  plays. 

So  it  is  that  I  would  gladly  learn  from  Chrysippus  of 
what  use  vice  is  in  the  universe.  It  is  of  no  use  to 
heavenly  and  divine  things,  he  says.  For  it  would  be 
absurd  if  for  the  lack  among  men  of  vice  and  avarice 
and  lying,  and  for  the  want  of  our  ravaging  one  another's 
lands  and  slandering  and  murdering  one  another,  the 
sun  could  not  accomplish  his  appointed  course,  nor  the 
world  enjoy  its  seasons  and  its  cycles,  nor  the  earth  keep 
its  central  position  in  the  universe  and  provide  the 
sources  of  the  winds  and  rains.  It  is  left  then  for  vice  to 
benefit  us  and  our  affairs;  and  this  perhaps  is  what  these 
Stoics  mean.  But  are  we  healthier  for  being  vicious, 
or  better  off  as  regards  the  necessities  of  life?  Does 
vice  benefit  our  beauty  or  our  strength  ?  They  deny  it. 
Yet  where  is  virtue  to  be  found  on  earth?  'It  is,"  they 
say,  "a,  name,  an  appearance  in  the  night  to  benighted'' 
sophists.  Vice,  however,  is  exposed  to  every  waking 
eye,  and  plain  as  day  to  all  men.  If,  however,  we  cannot 
'have  a  share  in  anything  good  for  anything,  and  least 
of  all  in  virtue,  for  heaven's  sake  what  is  the  good  of 
being  born?  And  is  it  not  a  terrible  thing  that  though 
what  is  of  use  to  the  farmer  or  the  pilot  or  the  driver 
leads  and  contributes  to  its  proper  end,  yet  that  which  is 

created  by  God  for  virtue  destroys  and  corrupts  virtue? 

* 
*  * 

Moreover,^  the  Stoic  sage  doesn't  and  never  will  exist 
anjrwhere  in  this  world.  But  there  are  innumerable  men 
as  wretched  as  they  can  be  living  in  this  state  and 
principality  of  Zeus  with  its  perfect  government.  What 
now  is  more  contrary  to  common  sense  than  that,  with 

•  De  Communihus  Notitiis,  §  33,  4-34. 


288       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Zeus  directing  all  things  for  the  best,  we  should  be  doing 
all  things  for  the  worst?  It  is  a  blasphemous  thing  to 
say,  but  if  Zeus  does  not  care  to  be  considered  as  savior 
and  merciful  and  a  guardian  against  evils,  but  as  rather 
the  opposite  of  all  these  noble  names,  certainly  nothing 
could  be  added  to  the  evils  that  now  exist  either  in  num- 
ber or  magnitude.  For,  as  the  Stoics  maintain,  all  men 
live  in  the  depths  of  folly  and  wickedness,  and  there  can 
be  no  addition  to  their  viciousness  nor  increase  to  their 
misery. 

This,  however,  is  not  the  worst  of  the  case.  Wo  read 
that  rather  where  they  find  fault  with  Menander  for  say- 
ing in  one  of  his  acted  plays. 

No  greater  source  of  evils  among  men  is  there  than  too 
great  good  .  .  . 

This  they  say  is  contrary  to  common-sense.  Yet  they 
make  God  who  is  good  the  origin  of  evil.  "Matter," 
they  say,  ''cannot  produce  evil  of  itself,  since  it  is  without 
'quahty  and  gets  all  the  different  properties  which  it 
is  capable  of  receiving  from  that  which  moves  and  gives 
it  form."  The  indwelling  reason,  however,  moves  and 
gives  it  form,  and  it  cannot  move  or  give  form  to  itself. 
Hence  necessarily  evil,  if  it  have  no  cause,  comes  from 
not-being,  but  if  it  comes  through  the  moving  principle, 
gets  its  existence  from  God.  For  if  the  Stoics  think 
that  Zeus  is  not  the  master  of  his  own  members,  and 
does  not  employ  each  agreeably  to  his  reason,  they  go 
contrary  to  common-sense,  and  they  are  inventing  an 
animal  whose  many  members  do  not  obey  its  will,  but 
employ  their  several  activities  and  ways  of  action,  with- 
out any  stimulus  from  the  whole  organism  and  without 
deriving  their  power  of  movement  from  it.    What  animal, 


THE  STOICS  289 

however,  is  so  badly  put  together  that  against  its  will  its 
feet  advance,  its  tongue  makes  noises,  its  horns  butt, 
or  its  teeth  bite?  God  must  do  most  of  these  things, 
though,  if,  contrary  to  his  will,  the  wicked  men  who  are 
parts  of  him  lie  and  misbehave  and  thieve,  and  kill  one 
another.  And  if,  as  Chrysippus  says,  ''Not  the  smallest 
part  exists  otherwise  than  as  Zeus  wills,"  and  every 
living  thing  naturally  behaves  and  moves  as  Zeus  guides 
and  directs  and  behaves  and  disposes,  then 

More  ruinous  than  the  last,  this  speech. 

For  it  is  ten  thousand  times  more  decent  that  the  mem- 
bers of  Zeus,  deranged  by  his  weakness  and  impotence, 
should  do  many  absurd  things  contrary  to  his  nature 
and  will,  than  that  there  should  be  no  wantonness  and 
no  wickedness  of  which  he  was  not  the  cause.  Yet  for 
all  that  ''the  world  is  a  city,  the  stars  its  citizens,"  and, 
if  you  like,  its  tribesmen  and  rulers — the  sun  for  instance 
a  counsellor,  and  the  evening  star  the  president  of  a 
prytany  or  a  magistrate.  If  this  be  the  case  I  do  not 
think  that  they  who  deny  the  doctrines  we  have  been 
discussing,  show  themselves  to  be  any  more  absurd  than 
those  who  maintain  and  advocate  them. 


XVIII 
EPICURUS 

[341-270  B.C.] 

THEORY   OF  KNOWLEDGE 

FiEST  1  of  all,  then,  one  must  determine  with  exact- 
ness the  notion  comprehended  under  each  separate 
Word,  in  order  to  be  able  to  refer  to  it,  as  to  a  certain 
criterion,  the  conceptions  which  emanate  from  ourselves, 
the  ulterior  researches  and  the  difficulties ;  otherwise  the 
judgment  has  no  foundation.  One  goes  on  from  demon- 
stration to  demonstration  ad  infinitum;  or  else  one  gains 
nothing  beyond  mere  words.  In  fact,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  that  in  every  word  we  should  perceive  directly, 
and  without  the  assistance  of  any  demonstration,  the 
fundamental  notion  which  it  expresses,  if  we  wish  to  have 
any  foundation  to  which  we  may  refer  our  researches, 
our  difficulties,  and  our  personal  judgments,  whatever 
in  other  respects  may  be  the  criterion  which  we  adopt, 
whether  we  take  as  our  standard  the  impressions  pro- 
duced on  our  senses,  or  the  actual  impression  in  general; 
or  whether  we  cling  to  the  idea  by  itself,  or  to  any  other 
criterion. 

We  must  also  note  carefully  the  impressions  which  we 
receive  in  the  presence  of  objects,  in  order  to  bring  our- 
selves back  to  that  point  in  the  circumstances  in  which 

1  From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  pp.  437  ff.  This 
and  the  following  division  are  taken  from  EdIcutus's  letter  to 
Herodotus. 

290 


EPICURUS  291 

it  is  necessary  to  suspend  the  judgment;  or  even  when  the 
question  is  about  things,  the  evidence  of  which  is  not 
immediately  perceived. 

When  these  foundations  are  once  laid  we  may  pass 
to  the  study  of  those  things,  the  evidence  of  which  is  not 
immediate.  .  .  . 

One  must  not  forget  that  the  production  of  images 
is  simultaneous  with  the  thought;  for  from  the  surface 
of  the  bodies  images  of  this  kind  are  continually  flowing  • 
off  in  an  insensible  manner  indeed,  because  they  are  im- 
mediately replaced.  They  preserve  for  a  long  time  the 
same  disposition,  and  the  same  arrangement  that  the 
atoms  do  in  the  solid  body,  although,  notwithstanding, 
their  form  may  be  sometimes  altered.  The  direct 
production  of  images  in  space  is  equally  instantaneous, 
because  these  images  are  only  light  substances  destitute 
of  depth. 

But  there  are  other  manners  in  which  natures  of  this 
kind  are  produced;  for  there  is  nothing  in  all  this  which 
at  all  contradicts  the  senses,  if  one  only  considers  in 
what  way  the  senses  are  exercised,  and  if  one  is  inclined 
to  explain  the  relation  which  is  established  between 
external  objects  and  ourselves.  Also,  one  must  admit  \ 
that  something  passes  from  external  objects  into  us  m\<j^ 
order  to  produce  in  us  sight  and  the  knowledge  of  forms ; ' 
for  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  that  external  objects  can 
affect  us  through  the  medium  of  the  air  which  is  between 
us  and  them,  or  by  means  of  rays,  whatever  emissions 
proceed  from  us  to  them,  so  as  to  give  us  an  impression 
of  their  form  and  color.  This  phenomenon,  on  the 
contrary,  is  perfectly  explained,  if  we  admit  that  certain 
images  of  the  same  color,  of  the  same  shape,  and  of  a 
proportionate  magnitude  pass  from  these  objects  to  us, 


292       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

and  so  arrive  at  being  seen  and  comprehended.  These 
images  are  animated  by  an  exceeding  rapidity,  and,  as  on 
the  other  side,  the  soHd  object  forming  a  compact  mass, 
and  comprising  a  vast  quantity  of  atoms,  emits  always 
the  same  quantity  of  particles,  the  vision  is  continued, 
and  only  produces  in  us  one  single  perception  which 
preserves  always  the  same  relation  to  the  object.  Every 
conception,  every  sensible  perception  which  bears  upon 
the  form  or  the  other  attributes  of  these  images,  is  only 
the  same  form  of  the  solid  perceived  directly,  either  in 
virtue  of  a  sort  of  actual  and  continued  condensation  of 
the  image,  or  in  consequence  of  the  traces  which  it  has 
left  in  us. 

Error  and  false  judgments  always  come  from  our 
adding  in  certain  imaginings  of  our  own  which  are  occa- 
sioned by  some  motion  in  our  own  bodies,  which  motion  in 
turn  is  connected  with  some  impression  or  direct  repre- 
sentation, but  also  connected  with  some  opinion  peculiar 
to  ourselves,  which  is  the  parent  of  error.  In  fact  the 
representations  which  intelligence  reflects  like  a  mirror, 
whether  one  perceives  them  in  a  dream,  or  by  any  other 
conceptions  of  the  intellect,  or  of  any  other  of  the  criteria, 
can  never  resemble  the  objects  that  one  calls  real  and 
true,  unless  there  were  objects  of  this  kind  perceived 
directly.  And,  on  the  other  side,  error  could  not  be 
possible  if  we  did  not  receive  some  other  motion  also,  a 
sort  of  initiative  of  intelligence  connected,  it  is  true,  with 
direct  representation,  but  going  beyond  that  representa- 
tion. These  conceptions  being  connected  with  the  direct 
perception  which  produces  the  representation,  but  going 
beyond  it,  in  consequence  of  a  motion  peculiar  to  the 
individual  thought,  produce  error  when  it  is  not  con- 
firmed by  evidence,  or  when  it  is  contradicted  by  evi- 


EPICURUS  293 

dence;    but  when  it  is  confirmed,  or  when  it  is  not 
contradicted  by  evidence,  then  it  produces  truth. 

We  must  carefully  preserve  these  principles  in  order 
not  to  reject  the  authority  of  the  faculties  which  perceive 
truth  directly;  and  not,  on  the  other  hand,  to  allow  what 
is  false  to  be  established  with  equal  firmness,  so  as  to 
throw  everything  into  confusion. 

PHYSICAL   SPECULATIONS 

And,  first  of  all,  we  must  admit  that  nothing  can  come 
of  that  which  does  not  exist;  for,  were  the  fact  otherwise, 
then  everything  would  be  produced  from  everything, 
and  there  would  be  no  need  of  any  seed.  And  if  that 
which  disappeared  were  so  absolutely  destroyed  as  to 
become  nonexistent,  then  everything  would  soon  perish, 
as  the  things  with  which  they  would  be  dissolved  would 
have  no  existence.  But,  in  truth,  the  universal  whole 
always  was  such  as  it  now  is,  and  always  will  be  such. 
For  there  is  nothing  into  which  it  can  change;  for  there 
is  nothing  beyond  this  universal  whole  which  can  pene- 
trate into  it,  and  produce  any  change  in  it.  .  .  . 

The  universe  is  infinite.  For  that  which  is  finite  has 
an  extreme,  and  that  which  has  an  extreme  is  looked  at  in 
relation  to  something  else.  Consequently,  that  which  has 
not  an  extreme,  has  no  boundary;  and  if  it  has  no  bound- 
ary, it  must  be  infinite,  and  not  terminated  by  any  limit. 

Again:  the  atoms  which  form  the  bodies,  these  full 
elements  from  which  the  combined  bodies  come,  and 
into  which  they  resolve  themselves,  assume  an  incalcu- 
lable variety  of  forms,  for  the  numerous  differences  which 
the  bodies  present  cannot  possibly  result  from  an  ag- 
gregate of  the  same  forms,  [and]  the  atoms  are  in  a  con- 
tinual state  of  motion.  .  .  . 


294       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

Among  the  atoms,  some  are  separated  by  great  dis- 
tances, others  come  very  near  to  one  another  in  the 
formation  of  combined  bodies,  or  at  times  are  enveloped 
by  others  which  are  combining;  but  in  this  latter  case 
they,  nevertheless,  preserve  their  own  peculiar  motion, 
thanks  to  the  nature  of  the  vacuum,  which  separates  the 
one  from  the  other,  and  yet  offers  them  no  resistance. 
The  solidity  which  they  possess  causes  them,  while 
knocking  against  one  another,  to  react  the  one  upon 
the  other;  till  at  last  the  repeated  shocks  bring  on  the 
dissolution  of  the  combined  body;  and  for  all  this  there 
"^  is  no  external  cause,  the  atoms  and  the  vacuum  being 
the  only  causes.  .  .  . 

One  must  also  allow  that  the  atoms  possess  no  one 
of  the  qualities  of  sensible  objects,  except  form,  weight, 
magnitude,  and  anything  else  that  is  unavoidably  inher- 
ent in  form;  in  fact  every  quality  is  changeable,  but  the 
atoms  are  necessarily  unchangeable;  for  it  is  impossible 
but  that  in  the  dissolution  of  combined  bodies,  there 
must  be  something  which  continues  solid  and  indestructi- 
ble, of  such  a  kind,  that  it  will  not  change  either  into 
what  does  not  exist,  or  out  of  what  does  not  exist;  but 
that  it  results  either  from  a  simple  displacement  of 
parts,  which  is  the  most  usual  case,  or  from  the  addition 
or  subtraction  of  certain  particles.  .  .  . 

Moreover,  all  the  atoms  are  necessarily  animated  by 
the  same  rapidity,  when  they  move  across  the  vacuum, 
or  when  no  obstacle  thwarts  them.  For  why  should 
heavy  atoms  have  a  more  rapid  movement  than  those 
which  are  small  and  light,  since  in  no  quarter  do  they 
encounter  any  obstacle?  Why,  on  the  other  hand, 
should  the  small  atoms  have  a  rapidity  superior  to  that 
of  the  large  ones,  since  both  the  one  and  the  other  find 


EPICURUS  295 

everywhere  an  easy  passage,  from  the  very  moment  that 
no  obstacle  intervenes  to  thwart  their  movements? 
Movement  from  low  to  high,  horizontal  movement  to 
and  fro,  in  virtue  of  the  reciprocal  percussion  of  the 
atoms,  movement  downward,  in  virtue  of  their  weight, 
will  be  all  equal,  for  in  whatever  sense  the  atom  moves 
it  must  have  a  movement  as  rapid  as  the  thought,  till 
the  moment  when  it  is  repelled,  in  virtue  of  some  external 
cause,  or  of  its  own  proper  weight,  by  the  shock  of  some 
object  which  resists  it.  .  .  .  At  the  same  time,  an  atom 
has  not,  in  any  moment  perceptible  to  the  intelligence,  a 
continued  movement  in  the  same  direction;  but  rather  a 
series  of  oscillating  movements  from  which  there  results, 
in  the  last  analysis,  a  continued  movement  perceptible 
to  the  senses.  .  .  . 

Let  us  now  return  to  the  study  of  the  affections,  and 
of  the  sensations;  for  this  will  be  the  best  method  of 
proving  that  the  soul  is  a  bodily  substance  composed  of 
slight  particles,  diffused  over  all  the  members  of  the  body, 
and  presenting  a  great  analogy  to  a  sort  of  spirit,  having 
an  admixture  of  heat,  resembling  at  one  time  one,  and 
at  another  time  the  other  of  those  two  principles.  There 
exists  in  it  a  special  part,  endowed  with  an  extreme 
mobility,  in  consequence  of  the  exceeding  slightness  of 
the  elements  which  compose  it,  and  also  in  reference  to 
its  more  immediate  sympathy  with  the  rest  of  the  body. 
That  it  is  which  the  faculties  of  the  soul  sufficiently 
prove,  and  the  passions,  and  the  mobility  of  its  nature, 
and  the  thoughts,  and,  in  a  word,  everything,  the  priva- 
tion of  which  is  death.  We  must  admit  that  it  is  in 
the  soul  most  especially  that  the  principle  of  sensation 
resides.  At  the  same  time  it  would  not  possess  this 
power  if  it  were  not  enveloped  by  the  rest  of  the  body 


296       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

which  communicates  it  to  it,  and  in  its  turn  receives  it 
from  it,  but  only  a  certain  measure;  for  there  are  certain 
affections  of  the  soul  of  which  it  is  not  capable. 

THE   PRACTICAL   PHILOSOPHY   OF  EPICURUS 

Let  2  no  one  delay  to  study  philosophy  while  he  is 
young,  and  when  he  is  old  let  him  not  become  weary  of 
the  study;  for  no  man  can  ever  find  the  time  imsui table 
or  too  late  to  study  the  health  of  his  soul.  And  he  who 
asserts  either  that  it  is  not  yet  time  to  philosophize,  or 
that  the  hour  is  passed,  is  like  a  man  who  should  say  that 
the  time  is  not  yet  come  to  be  happy,  or  that  it  is  too 
late.  So  that  both  young  and  old  should  study  philos- 
ophy, the  one  in  order  that,  when  he  is  old,  he  may  be 
young  in  good  things  through  the  pleasing  recollection 
of  the  past,  and  the  other  in  order  that  he  may  be  at  the 
same  time  both  young  and  old,  in  consequence  of  hia 
absence  of  fear  for  the  future. 

It  is  right  then  for  a  man  to  consider  the  things  which 
produce  happiness,  since,  if  happiness  is  present,  we 
have  everything,  and  when  it  is  absent,  we  do  everything 
with  a  view  to  possess  it.  Now,  what  I  have  constantly 
recommended  to  you,  these  things  I  would  have  you  do 
and  practise,  considering  them  to  be  the  elements  of 
living  well.  First  of  all,  beUeve  that  God  is  a  being  in- 
corruptible and  happy,  as  the  common  opinion  of  the 
world  about  God  dictates;  and  attach  to  your  idea  of  him 
nothing  which  is  inconsistent  with  incorruptibiUty  or 
with  happiness ;  and  think  that  he  is  invested  with  every- 
thing which  is  able  to  preserve  to  him  this  happiness, 
in    conjunction   with    incorruptibility.     For    there   are 

2  This  passage  is  from  the  letter  of  Epicurus  addressed  to  Menaecens. 
Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  p.  468. 


EPICURUS  297 

gods;  though  our  knowledge  of  them  is  indistinct.  But 
they  are  not  of  the  character  which  people  in  general 
attribute  to  them;  for  they  do  not  pay  a  respect  to  them 
which  accords  with  the  ideas  that  they  entertain  of 
them.  And  that  man  is  not  impious  who  discards  the-^ 
gods  believed  in  by  the  many,  but  he  who  applies  to  the 
gods  the  opinions  entertained  of  them  by  the  many. 
For  the  assertions  of  the  many  about  the  gods  are  not 
anticipations  (TrpoXTjA/ret?),  but  false  opinions  {viroXrj-^eL'^).^ 
And  in  consequence  of  these,  the  greatest  evils  which 
befall  wricked  men,  and  the  benefits  which  are  conferred 
on  the  good,  are  all  attributed  to  the  gods;  for  they 
connect  all  their  ideas  of  them  with  a  comparison  of 
human  virtues,  and  everything  which  is  different  from 
human  qualities  they  regard  as  incompatible  with  the 
divine  nature. 

Accustom  yourseK  also  to  think  death  a  matter  with 
which  we  are  not  at  all  concerned,  since  all  good  and  all 
evil  is  in  sensation,  and  since  death  is  only  the  privation 
of  sensation.  On  which  account,  the  correct  knowledge 
of  the  fact  that  death  is  no  concern  of  ours,  makes  the 
mortality  of  life  pleasant  to  us,  inasmuch  as  it  sets  forth 
no  illimitable  time,  but  relieves  us  from  the  longing  for  ''- 
immortality.  For  there  is  nothing  terrible  in  living  to 
a  man  who  rightly  comprehends  that  there  is  nothing 
terrible  in  ceasing  to  live ;  so  that  he  was  a  silly  man  who 
said  that  he  feared  death,  not  because  it  would  grieve 
him  when  it  w^as  present,  but  because  it  did  grieve  him 
while  it  was  future.  For  it  is  very  absurd  that  that>^ 
which  does  not  distress  a  man  when  it  is  present, 
should  afflict  him  when  only  expected.  Therefore,  the 
most  formidable  of  all  evils,  death,  is  nothing  to  us, 
since,  when  we  exist,  death  is  not  present  to  us;  and 


298       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

when  death  is  present,  then  we  have  no  existence.  It 
is  no  concern  then  either  of  the  Uving  or  of  the  dead;  since 
to  the  one  it  has  no  existence,  and  the  other  class  has  no 
existence  itself.  But  people  in  general  at  times  flee  from 
death  as  the  greatest  of  evils,  and  at  times  wish  for  it  as 
a  rest  from  the  evils  in  life.  Nor  is  the  not  living  a 
thing  feared,  since  living  is  not  connected  with  it;  nor 
does  the  wise  man  think  not  living  an  evil;  but,  just  as 
he  chooses  food,  not  preferring  that  which  is  most 
abundant,  but  that  which  is  nicest;  so,  too,  he  enjoys 
time,  not  measuring  it  as  to  whether  it  is  of  the  greatest 
length,  but  as  to  whether  it  is  most  agreeable.  And 
he  who  enjoins  a  young  man  to  live  well,  and  an  old  man 
to  die  well,  is  a  simpleton,  not  only  because  of  the  con- 
stantly delightful  nature  of  life,  but  also  because  the  care 
to  live  well  is  identical  with  the  care  to  die  well.  And 
he  was  still  more  wrong  who  said : 

'Tis  well  to  taste  of  life,  and  then  when  born 
To  pass  with  quickness  to  the  shades  below. 

For  if  this  really  was  his  opinion  why  did  he  not  quit 
life?  for  it  was  easily  in  his  power  to  do  so,  if  it  really 
was  his  belief.  But  if  he  was  joking,  then  he  was  talking 
foolishly  in  a  case  where  it  ought  not  to  be  allowed;  and 
we  must  recollect  that  the  future  is  not  our  own,  nor, 
on  the  other  hand,  is  it  wholly  not  our  own,  I  mean  so 
that  we  can  never  altogether  await  it  with  a  feeling  of 
certainty  that  it  will  be,  nor  altogether  despair  of  it  as 
what  will  never  be.  And  we  must  consider  that  some  of 
the  passions  are  natural,  and  some  empty;  and  of  the 
natural  ones  some  are  necessary,  and  some  merely 
natural.  And  of  the  necessary  ones  some  are  necessary 
to  happiness,  others  are  necessary  that  the  body  may  be 


EPICURUS  299 

exempt  from  trouble,  and  others,  again,  merely  in  order 
that  life  itself  may  be;  for  a  correct  theory,  with  regard 
to  these  things,  can  refer  all  choice  and  avoidance  to 
the  health  of  the  body  and  the  imperturbability  of  the 
soul,  since  this  is  the  end  of  living  happily.  For  it  is  for 
the  sake  of  this  that  we  do  everything,  wishing  to  avoid 
grief  and  fear;  and  when  once  this  is  the  case,  with 
respect  to  us,  then  the  storm  of  the  soul  is,  as  I  may  say, 
put  an  end  to;  since  the  animal  is  unable  to  go  as  if  to 
something  deficient,  and  to  seek  something  different 
from  that  by  which  the  good  of  the  soul  and  body  will 
be  perfected. 

For  then  we  have  need  of  pleasure  when  we  grieve, 
because  pleasure  is  not  present;  but  when  we  do  not 
grieve,  then  we  have  no  need  of  pleasure;  and  on  this 
account,  we  affirm  that  pleasure  is  the  beginning  and 
end  of  living  happily;  for  we  have  recognized  this  as  the 
first  good,  being  connate  with  us;  and  it  is  with  reference 
to  it  that  we  begin  every  choice  and  avoidance;  and 
to  this  we  come  as  if  we  judged  of  all  good  by  passion 
as  the  standard;  and,  since  this  is  the  first  good  and 
connate  with  us,  on  this  account  we  do  not  choose  every 
pleasure,  but  at  times  we  pass  over  many  pleasures  when 
any  difficulty  is  likely  to  ensue  from  them;  and  we  think 
many  pains  better  than  pleasures,  when  a  greater  pleasure 
follows  them,  if  we  endure  the  pain  for  a  time. 

Every  pleasure  is  therefore  a  good  on  account  of  its 
own  nature,  but  it  does  not  follow  that  every  pleasure 
is  worthy  of  being  chosen;  just  as  every  pain  is  an  evil, 
and  yet  every  pain  must  not  be  avoided;  but  it  is  right 
to  estimate  all  these  things  by  the  measurement  and 
view  of  what  is  suitable  and  unsuitable;  for  at  times  we 
may  feel  the  good  as  an  evil,  and  at  times,  on  the  con- 


300       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

trary,  we  may  feel  the  evil  as  good.  And  we  think 
contentment  a  great  good,  not  in  order  that  we  may 
never  have  but  a  little,  but  in  order  that,  if  we  have  not 
much,  we  may  make  use  of  a  little,  being  genuinely  per- 
suaded that  those  men  enjoy  luxury  most  completely 
who  are  the  best  able  to  do  without  it;  and  that  every- 
thing which  is  natural  is  easily  provided,  and  what  is 
useless  is  not  easily  procured.  And  simple  flavors  give 
as  much  pleasure  as  costly  fare,  when  everything  that 
can  give  pain,  and  every  feeling  of  want,  is  removed; 
and  corn  and  water  give  the  most  extreme  pleasure  when 
any  one  in  need  eats  them.  To  accustom  one's  self, 
therefore,  to  simple  and  inexpensive  habits  is  a  great 
ingredient  in  the  perfecting  of  health,  and  makes  a  man 
free  from  hesitation  with  respect  to  the  necessary  uses 
of  life.  And  when  we,  on  certain  occasions,  fall  in  with 
more  sumptuous  fare,  it  makes  us  in  a  better  disposi- 
tion toward  it,  and  renders  us  fearless  with  respect  to 
fortune.  '\\Tien,  therefore,  we  say  that  pleasure  is  a 
chief  good,  we  are  not  speaking  of  the  pleasures  of  the 
debauched  man,  or  those  which  lie  in  sensual  enjoyment, 
as  some  think  who  are  ignorant,  and  who  do  not  enter- 
tain our  opinions,  or  else  interpret  them  perversely;  but 
we  mean  the  freedom  of  the  body  from  pain,  and  of  the 
soul  from  confusion.  For  it  is  not  continued  drinkings 
and  revels,  or  the  enjoyment  of  female  society,  or  feasts 
of  fish  and  other  such  things  as  a  costly  table  supplies, 
that  make  life  pleasant,  but  sober  contemplation,  which 
examines  into  the  reasons  for  all  choice  and  avoidance, 
and  which  puts  to  flight  the  vain  opinions  from  which 
the  greater  part  of  the  confusion  arises  which  troubles 
the  soul. 
Now,  the  beginning  and  the  greatest  good  of  all  these 


I  EPICURUS  301 

things  is  prudence,  on  which  account  prudence  is  some- 
thing more  valuable  than  even  philosophy,  inasmuch  as 
all  the  other  virtues  spring  from  it,  teaching  us  that  it 
is  not  possible  to  live  pleasantly  unless  one  also  lives 
prudently,  and  honorably,  and  justly;  and  that  one  can- 
not live  prudently,  and  honorably,  and  justly,  without 
living  pleasantly;  for  the  virtues  are  connate  with  living 
agreeably,  and  living  agreeably  is  inseparable  from  the 
virtues.  Since,  who  can  you  think  better  than  that 
man  who  has  holy  opinions  respecting  the  gods,  and 
who  is  utterly  fearless  with  respect  to  death,  and  who 
has  properly  contemplated  the  end  of  nature,  and  who 
comprehends  that  the  chief  good  is  easily  perfected  and 
easily  provided;  and  the  greatest  evil  lasts  but  a  short 
period,  and  causes  but  brief  pain?  And  w^ho  has  no 
belief  in  necessity,  which  is  set  up  by  some  as  the  mistress 
of  all  things,  but  he  refers  some  things  to  fortune,  some 
to  ourselves,  because  necessity  is  an  irresponsible  power, 
and  because  he  sees  that  fortune  is  unstable,  while  our 
own  will  is  free ;  and  this  freedom  constitutes,  in  our  case, 
a  responsibility  which  makes  us  encounter  blame  and 
praise.  Since  it  would  be  better  to  follow  the  fables 
about  the  gods  than  to  be  a  slave  to  the  fate  of  the 
natural  philosopher;  for  the  fables  which  are  told  give 
us  a  sketch,  as  if  we  could  avert  the  wrath  of  God  by 
paying  him  honor;  but  the  other  presents  us  with 
necessity  which  is  inexorable. 

And  he,  not  thinking  fortune  a  goddess,  as  the  general- 
ity esteem  her  (for  nothing  is  done  at  random  by  a  god), 
nor  a  cause  which  no  man  can  rely  on;  for  he  thinks  that 
good  or  evil  is  not  given  by  her  to  men  so  as  to  make 
them  live  happily,  but  that  the  principles  of  great  goods 
or  great  evils  are  supplied  by  her;  thinking  it  better  to 


302       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

be  unfortunate  in  accordance  with  reason,  than  to  be 
fortunate  irrationally;  for  that  those  actions  which  are 
judged  to  be  the  best,  are  rightly  done  in  consequence  of 
reason. 

Do  you  then  study  these  precepts,  and  those  which  are 
akin  to  them,  by  all  means  day  and  night,  pondering  on 
them  by  yourself,  and  discussing  them  with  any  one  like 
yourself,  and  then  you  will  never  be  disturbed  by  either 
sleeping  or  waking  fancies,  but  you  will  live  like  a  god 
among  men;  for  a  man  living  amid  immortal  gods  is  in 
no  respect  like  a  mortal  being. 

SOME   MAXIMS    OF   EPICURUS 

No  ^  pleasure  is  intrinsically  bad ;  but  the  efficient 
causes  of  some  pleasures  bring  with  them  a  great  many 
perturbations  of  pleasure. 

If  every  pleasure  were  condensed,  if  one  may  so  say, 
and  if  each  lasted  long,  and  affected  the  whole  body,  or 
the  essential  parts  of  it,  then  there  would  be  no  difference 
between  one  pleasure  and  another. 

Irresistible  power  and  great  wealth  may,  up  to  a  cer- 
tain point,  give  us  security  as  far  as  men  are  con- 
cerned; but  the  security  of  men  in  general  depends 
upon  the  tranquillity  of  their  souls,  and  their  freedom 
from  ambition. 

The  riches  of  nature  are  defined  and  easily  procurable; 
but  vain  desires  are  insatiable. 

The  wise  man  is  but  little  favored  by  fortune;  but  his 
reason  procures  him  the  greatest  and  most  valuable 

3  From  Diogenes  Laertius,  Yonge's  translation,  p.  474. 


EPICURUS  303 

goods,  and  these  he  does  enjoy,  and  will  enjoy  the  whole 
of  his  life. 

He  who  is  acquainted  with  the  limits  of  life  knows 
that  that  which  removes  the  pain  which  arises  from  want, 
and  which  makes  the  whole  of  life  perfect,  is  easily  pro- 
curable; so  that  he  has  no  need  of  those  things  which 
can  only  be  attained  with  trouble. 

Of  all  the  things  which  wisdom  provides  for  the 
happiness  of  the  whole  life,  by  far  the  most  important  is 
the  acquisition  of  friendship. 

He  who  desires  to  live  tranquilly  without  having  any- 
thing to  fear  from  other  men,  ought  to  make  himself 
friends ;  those  whom  he  cannot  make  friends  of,  he  should, 
at  least,  avoid  rendering  enemies;  and  if  that  is  not  in 
his  power,  he  should,  as  far  as  possible,  avoid  all  inter- 
course with  them  and  keep  them  aloof,  as  far  as  it  is  for 
his  interest  to  do  so. 

The  happiest  men  are  they  who  have  arrived  at  the 
point  of  having  nothing  to  fear  from  those  who  surround 
them.  Such  men  can  hve  with  one  another  most  agree- 
ably, having  the  firmest  grounds  of  confidence  in  one 
another,  enjoying  the  advantages  of  friendship  in  all 
their  fulness,  and  not  lamenting,  as  a  pitiable  circum- 
stance, the  premature  death  of  their  friends. 

Natural  justice  is  a  covenant  of  what  is  suitable, 
leading  men  to  avoid  injuring  one  another,  and  being 
injured. 

Justice  has  no  independent  existence;  it  results  from 
mutual  contracts,  and  establishes  itself  wherever  there 


^ 


304       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

is   a  mutual   engagement   to  guard  against  doing  or 
sustaining  mutual  injury. 

In  a  general  point  of  view,  justice  is  the  same  thing  to 
every  one;  for  there  is  something  advantageous  in  mu- 
tual society.  Nevertheless,  the  difference  of  place,  and 
divers  other  circumstances,  make  justice  vary. 

From  the  moment  that  a  thing  declared  just  by  the 
law  is  generally  recognized  as  useful  for  the  mutual 
relations  of  men,  it  becomes  really  just,  whether  it  is 
imiversally  regarded  as  such  or  not. 

But  if,  on  the  contrary,  a  thing  established  by  law 
is  not  really  useful  for  the  social  relations,  then  it  is  not 
just. 

The  just  man  is  the  freest  of  all  men  from  disquietude; 
but  the  unjust  man  is  a  perpetual  prey  to  it. 


XIX 
LUCRETIUS 

[96-55  B.C.] 

THE   WAGES   OF   PHILOSOPHY 

For  1 1  will  essay  to  discourse  to  you  of  the  most  high 
system  of  heaven  and  the  gods  and  will  open  up  the  first- 
beginnings  of  things,  out  of  which  nature  gives  birth  to 
all  things  and  increase  and  nourishment,  and  into  which 
nature  hkewise  dissolves  them  back  after  their  destruc- 
tion. These  we  are  accustomed  in  explaining  their 
reason  to  call  matter  and  begetting  bodies  of  things  and 
to  name  seeds  of  things  and  also  to  term  first  bodies, 
because  from  them  as  first  elements  all  things  are. 

It  2  is  sweet,  when  on  the  great  sea  the  winds  trouble 
its  waters,  to  behold  from  land  another's  deep  distress; 
not  that  it  is  a  pleasure  and  delight  that  any  should  be 
afflicted,  but  because  it  is  sweet  to  see  from  what  evils 
you  are  yourself  exempt.  It  is  sweet  also  to  look  upon 
the  mighty  struggles  of  war  arrayed  along  the  plains 
without  sharing  yourself  in  the  danger.  But  nothing  is 
more  welcome  than  to  hold  the  lofty  and  serene  positions 
well  fortified  by  the  learning  of  the  wise,  from  which  you 
may  look  down  upon  others  and  see  them  wandering  all 

1  The  extracts  from  Lucretius  are  given  in  Munro's  translation, 
and  the  page  references  are  to  the  translation.     P.  2.  : 

2  lb.,  p.  28. 

305 


306       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

abroad  and  going  astray  in  their  search  for  the  path  of 
life,  see  the  contest  among  them  of  intellect,  the  rivalry 
of  birth,  the  striving  night  and  day  with  surpassing 
effort  to  struggle  up  to  the  summit  of  power  and  to  be 
masters  of  the  world.  0  miserable  minds  of  men!  0 
blinded  breasts !  in  what  darkness  of  life  and  in  how  great 
dangers  is  passed  this  term  of  life  whatever  its  duration! 
not  choose  to  see  that  nature  craves  for  herseK  no  more 
than  this,  that  pain  hold  aloof  from  the  body,  and  that 
she  in  mind  enjoy  a  feeling  of  pleasure  exempt  from  care 
and  fear!  Therefore  we  see  that  for  the  body's  nature 
few  things  are  needed  at  all,  such  and  such  only  as  take 
away  pain.  ;,, 

For  3  even  as  children  are  flurried  and  dread  all  things 
in  the  thick  darkness,  thus  we  in  the  daylight  fear  at 
times  things  not  a  whit  more  to  be  dreaded  than  those 
which  children  shudder  at  in  the  dark  and  fancy  sure  to 
be.  This  terror  therefore  and  darkness  of  mind  must  be 
dispelled  not  by  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  ghttering  shafts 
of  day,  but  by  the  aspect  and  law  of  nature. 

Now  mark  and  I  will  explain  by  what  motion  the 
begetting  bodies  of  matter  do  beget  different  things  and 
after  they  are  begotten  again  break  them  up,  and  by 
what  force  they  are  compelled  so  to  do  and  what  velocity 
is  given  to  them  for  travelling  through  the  great  void: 
do  you  mind  to  give  heed  to  my  words.  For  verily 
matter  does  not  cohere  inseparably  ^massed  together, 
since  we  see  that  everything  wanes  and"  perceive  that  all 
things  ebb  as  it  were  by  length  of  time  and  that  age  with- 
draws them  from  our  sight,  though  yet  the  sum  is  seen 
to  remain  imimpaired  by  reason  that  the  bodies  which 

3  Munro's  translation,  pp.  29-30. 


LUCRETIUS  307 

quit  each  thing,  lessen  the  things  from  which  they  go, 
gift  with  increase  those  to  which  they  have  come, 
compel  the  former  to  grow  old,  the  latter  to  come  to  their 
prime,  and  yet  abide  not  with  these.  Thus  the  sum  of 
things  is  ever  renewed  and  mortals  live  by  a  reciprocal 
dependency.  Some  nations  wax,  others  wane,  and  in  a 
brief  space  the  races  of  living  things  are  changed  and 
like  runners  hand  over  the  lamp  of  life. 

*  * 
But  *  some  in  opposition  to  this,  ignorant  of  matter, 
believe  that  nature  cannot  without  the  providence  of  the 
gods  in  such  nice  conformity  to  the  ways  of  men  vary  the 
seasons  of  the  year  and  bring  forth  crops,  ay  and  all 
the  other  things,  which  divine  pleasure  the  guide  of  life 
prompts  men  to  approach,  escorting  them  in  person  and 
enticing  them  by  her  fondlings  to  continue  their  races 
through  the  arts  of  Venus,  that  mankind  may  not  come 
to  an  end.  Now  when  they  suppose  that  the  gods 
designed  all  things  for  the  sake  of  men,  they  seem  to  me 
in  all  respects  to  have  strayed  most  widely  from  true 
reason.  For  even  if  I  did  not  know  what  first-beginnings 
are,  yet  this,  judging  by  the  very  arrangements  of  heaven 
I  would  venture  to  affirm,  and  led  by  many  other  cir- 
cumstances to  maintain,  that  the  nature  of  the  world  has  <^ 
by  no  means  been  made  for  us  by  divine  power :  so  great 
Ure  the  defects  with  which  it  stands  encumbered. 

THE  COURSE    OF  THE    ATOMS 

This  ^  point  too  herein  we  wish  you  to  apprehend :  when 
bodies  are  borne  downward  sheer  through  void  by  their 
own  weights,  at  quite  uncertain  times  and  uncertain 
spots  they  push  themselves  a  little  from  their  course; 

*  Munro's  translation,  p.  32. 
5  lb.,  pp.  33-4. 


308       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

you  just  and  only  just  can  call  it  a  change  of  inclination. 
If  they  were  not  used  to  swerve,  they  would  all  fall  down, 
like  drops  of  rain,  through  the  deep  void,  and  no  clashing 
would  have  been  begotten  nor  blow  produced  among  the 
first-beginnings :  thus  nature  never  would  have  produced 
aught. 

But  if  haply  any  one  believes  that  heavier  bodies,  as 
they  are  carried  more  quickly  sheer  through  space,  can 
fall  from  above  on  the  lighter  and  so  beget  blows  able  to 
produce  begetting  motions,  he  goes  most  widely  astray 
from  true  reason.  For  whenever  bodies  fall  through 
water  and  thin  air,  they  must  quicken  their  descents  in 
proportion  to  their  weights,  because  the  body  of  water 
and  subtle  nature  of  air  cannot  retard  everything  in  equal 
degree,  but  more  readily  give  way,  overpowered  by  the 
heavier :  on  the  other  hand  empty  void  cannot  offer  resist- 
ance to  anything  in  any  direction  at  any  time,  but  must, 
as  its  nature  craves,  continually  give  way;  and  for  this 
reason  all  things  must  be  moved  and  borne  along  with 
equal  velocity  though  of  unequal  weights  through  the 
unresisting  void.  Therefore  heavier  things  will  never  be 
able  to  fall  from  above  on  lighter  nor  of  themselves  to 
beget  blows  sufficient  to  produce  the  varied  motions  by 
which  nature  carries  on  things.  Wherefore  again  and 
again  I  say  bodies  must  swerve  a  httle;  and  yet 
not  more  than  the  least  possible;  lest  we  be  found  to 
be  imagining  oblique  motions  and  this  the  reahty 
should  refute.  For  this  we  see  to  be  plain  and  evi- 
dent, that  weights,  so  far  as  in  them  is,  cannot  travel 
obhquely,  when  they  fall  from  above,  at  least  so  far 
as  you  can  perceive;  but  that  nothing  swerves  in 
any  case  from  the  straight  course,  who  is  there  that  can 
perceive  ? 


LUCRETIUS  309 

THE    UNCONCERNED    GODS 

For  ^  the  nature  of  gods  must  ever  in  itseK  of  necessity 
enjoy  immortality  together  with  supreme  repose,  far  re- 
moved and  withdrawn  from  our  concerns;  since  exempt 
from  every  pain,  exempt  from  all  dangers,  strong  in  its 
own  resources,  not  wanting  aught  of  us,  it  is  neither 
gained  by  favors  nor  moved  by  anger. 

*** 

If  ''  you  well  apprehend  and  keep  in  mind  these  things, 
nature  free  at  once  and  rid  of  her  haughty  lords  is  seen 
to  do  all  things  spontaneously  of  herself  without  the 
meddling  of  the  gods.  For  I  appeal  to  the  holy  breasts 
of  the  gods  who  in  tranquil  peace  pass  a  calm  time  and 
an  unruffled  existence.  Who  can  rule  the  sun,  who  hold 
in  his  hand  with  controlling  force  the  strong  reins  of  the 
immeasurable  deep?  Who  can  at  once  make  all  the  differ- 
ent heavens  to  roll  and  warm  with  ethereal  fires  all  the 
fruitful  earths,  or  be  present  in  all  places  at  all  times,  to 
bring  darkness  with  clouds  and  shake  with  noise  the 
heaven's  serene  expanse,  to  hurl  lightnings  and  often 
throw  down  his  own  temples,  and  withdrawing  into  the 
deserts  there  to  spend  his  rage  in  practising  his  bolt 
which  often  passes  the  guilty  by  and  strikes  dead  the 
innocent  and  unoffending? 

THE    NATURE    OF   MIND    AND   SOUL 

And  s  now  since  I  have  shown  what-hke  the  beginnings 
of  all  things  are  and  how  diverse  with  varied  shapes  as 
they  fly  spontaneously  driven  on  in  everlasting  motion, 
and  how  all  things  can  be  severally  produced  out  of  these, 
next  after  these  questions  the  nature  of  the  mind  and 

«Muiiro's  translation,  p.  43. 
«Ib.,  p.  54.         8lb.,  p.  58. 


310       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

soul  should  methinks  be  cleared  up  by  my  verses  and 
that  dread  of  Acheron  be  driven  headlong  forth,  troubling 
as  it  does  the  life  of  man  from  its  inmost  depths  and 
overspreading  all  things  with  the  blackness  of  death, 
allowing  no  pleasure  to  be  pure  and  unalloyed. 

*  * 
Now  9  I  assert  that  the  mind  and  the  soul  are  kept 
together  in  close  union  and  make  up  a  single  nature, 
but  that  the  directing  principle  which  we  call  mind  and 
understanding,  is  the  head  so  to  speak  and  reigns  para- 
mount in  the  whole  body.  It  has  a  fixed  seat  in  the 
middle  region  of  the  breast:  here  throb  fear  and  ap- 
prehension, about  these  spots  dwell  soothing  joys; 
therefore  here  is  the  understanding  or  mind.  All  the 
rest  of  the  soul  disseminated  through  the  whole  body 
obeys  and  moves  at  the  will  and  inclination  of  the  mind. 
It  by  itself  alone  knows  for  itself,  rejoices  for  itself,  at 
times  when  the  impression  does  not  move  either  soul  or 
body  together  with  it.  And  as  when  some  part  of  us, 
the  head  or  the  eye,  suffers  from  an  attack  of  pain,  we 
do  not  feel  the  anguish  at  the  same  time  over  the  whole 
body,  thus  the  mind  sometimes  suffers  pain  by  itself  or 
is  inspirited  with  joy,  when  all  the  rest  of  the  soul 
throughout  the  limbs  and  frame  is  stirred  by  no  novel 
sensation.  But  when  the  mind  is  excited  by  some  more 
vehement  apprehension,  we  see  the  whole  soul  feel  in 
unison  through  all  the  limbs,  sweats  and  paleness  spread 
over  the  whole  body,  the  tongue  falter,  the  voice  die 
away,  a  mist  cover  the  eyes,  the  ears  ring,  the  hmbs  sink 
under  one;  in  short  we  often  see  men  drop  down  from 
terror  of  mind;  so  that  anybody  may  easily  perceive 
from  this  that  the  soul  is  closely  united  with  the  mind, 

sMunro's  translation,  pp.  60-2. 


LUCRETIUS  311 

and  when  it  has  been  smitten  by  the  influence  of  the 
mind,  forthwith  pushes  and  strikes  the  body. 

This  same  principle  teaches  that  the  nature  of  the 
mind  and  soul  is  bodily;  for  when  it  is  seen  to  push  the 
limbs,  rouse  the  body  from  sleep,  and  alter  the  counte- 
nance and  guide  and  turn  about  the  w^hole  man,  and 
when  we  see  that  none  of  these  effects  can  take  place 
without  touch  nor  touch  without  body,  must  we  not 
admit  that  the  mind  and  the  soul  are  of  a  bodily  nature? 
Again  you  perceive  that  our  mind  in  our  body  suffers 
together  with  the  body  and  feels  in  unison  with  it. 
When  a  weapon  with  a  shudder-causing  force  has  been 
driven  in  and  has  laid  bare  bones  and  sinews  within  the 
body,  if  it  does  not  take  life,  yet  there  ensues  a  faintness 
and  a  lazy  sinking  to  the  ground  and  on  the  ground  the 
turmoil  of  mind  which  arises,  and  sometimes  a  kind  of 
undecided  inclination  to  get  up.  Therefore  the  nature 
of  the  mind  must  be  bodily,  since  it  suffers  from  bodily 
weapons  and  blow^s. 

I  will  now  go  on  to  explain  in  my  verses  of  what 
kind  of  body  the  mind  consists  and  out  of  what  it  is 
formed.  First  of  all  I  say  that  it  is  extremely  fine  and 
formed  of  exceedingly  minute  bodies.  That  this  is  so 
you  may,  if  you  please  to  attend,  clearly  perceive  from 
what  follows:  nothing  that  is  seen  takes  place  with  a 
velocity  equal  to  that  of  the  mind  when  it  starts  some 
suggestion  and  actually  sets  it  agoing;  the  mind  therefore 
is  stirred  with  greater  rapidity  than  any  of  the  things 
whose  nature  stands  out  visible  to  sight.  But  that 
which  is  so  passing  nimble  must  consist  of  seeds  ex- 
ceedingly round  and  exceedingly  minute,  in  order  to  be 
stirred  and  set  in  motion  by  a  small  moving  power.  Thus 
water  is  moved  and  heaves  by  ever  so  small  a  force, 


/^ 


312       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

formed  as  it  is  of  small  particles  apt  to  roll.  But  on  the 
other  hand  the  nature  of  honey  is  more  sticky,  its  liquid 
more  sluggish  and  its  movement  more  dilatory;  for  the 
whole  mass  of  matter  coheres  more  closely,  because  sure 
enough  it  is  made  of  bodies  not  so  smooth,  fine,  and 
round.  A  breeze  however  gentle  and  light  can  force, 
as  you  may  see,  a  high  heap  of  poppy  seed  to  be  blown 
away  from  the  top  downward;  but  on  the  other  hand 
Eurus  itself  cannot  move  a  heap  of  stones.  Therefore 
bodies  possess  a  power  of  moving  in  proportion  to  their 
smallness  and  smoothness;  and  on  the  other  hand  the 
greater  weight  and  roughness  bodies  prove  to  have,  the 
more  stable  they  are.  Since  then  the  nature  of  the 
mind  has  been  found  to  be  eminently  easy  to  move,  it 
must  consist  of  bodies  exceedingly  small,  smooth,  and 
round.  The  knowledge  of  which  fact,  my  good  friend, 
will  on  many  accounts  prove  useful  and  be  serviceable  to 
you.  The  following  fact  too  Hkewise  demonstrates  how 
fine  the  texture  is  of  which  its  nature  is  composed,  and 
how  small  the  room  is  in  which  it  can  be  contained, 
could  it  only  be  collected  into  one  mass:  soon  as  the 
untroubled  sleep  of  death  has  gotten  hold  of  a  man  and 
the  nature  of  the  mind  and  soul  has  withdrawn,  you  can 
perceive  then  no  diminution  of  the  entire  body  either  in 
appearance  or  weight:  death  makes  all  good  save  the 
vital  sense  and  heat.  Therefore  the  whole  soul  must 
consist  of  very  small  seeds  and  be  inwoven  through  the 
veins  and  flesh  and  sinews;  inasmuch  as,  after  it  has  all 
withdrawn  from  the  whole  body,  the  exterior  contour 
of  the  limbs  preserves  itself  entire  and  not  a  tittle  of  the 
weight  is  lost.  Just  in  the  same  way  when  the  flavor 
of  wine  is  gone  or  when  the  delicious  aroma  of  a  perfume 
has  been  dispersed  into  the  air  or  when  the  savor  has 


LUCRETIUS  313 

left  some  body,  yet  the  thing  itseK  does  not  therefore 
look  smaller  to  the  eye,  nor  does  aught  seem  to  have  been 
taken  from  the  weight,  because  sure  enough  many 
minute  seeds  make  up  the  savors  and  the  odor  in  the 
whole  body  of  the  several  things.  Therefore,  again  and 
again  I  say,  you  are  to  know  that  the  nature  of  the  mind 
and  the  soul  has  been  formed  of  exceedingly  minute 
seeds,  since  at  its  departure  it  takes  away  none  of  the 
weight. 

DISPELLING   THE    DREAD    OF   DEATH 

Death  ^^  therefore  to  us  is  nothing,  concerns  us  not  a 
jot,  since  the  nature  of  the  mind  is  proved  to  be  mortal; 
and  as  in  time  gone  by  we  felt  no  distress,  when  the 
Poeni  from  all  sides  came  together  to  do  battle,  and  all 
things  shaken  by  war's  troublous  uproar  shuddered 
and  quaked  beneath  high  heaven,  and  mortal  men  were 
in  doubt  which  of  the  two  peoples  it  should  be  to  whose 
empire  all  must  fall  by  sea  and  land  aUke,  thus  when 
we  shall  be  no  more,  w^hen  there  shall  have  been  a  separa- 
tion of  body  and  soul,  out  of  both  of  which  we  are  each 
formed  into  a  single  being,  to  us,  you  may  be  sure,  who 
then  shall  be  no  more,  nothing  whatever  can  happen  to 
excite  sensation,  not  if  earth  shall  be  mingled  with  sea 
and  sea  with  heaven.  And  even  supposing  the  nature 
of  the  mind  and  power  of  the  soul  do  feel,  after  they 
have  been  severed  from  our  body,  yet  that  is  nothing  to 
us  who  by  the  binding  tie  of  marriage  between  body  and 
soul  are  formed  each  into  one  single  being.  And  if  time 
should  gather  up  our  matter  after  our  death  and  put  it 
once  more  into  the  position  in  which  it  now  is,  and  the 
light  of  life  be  given  to  us  again,  this  result  even  would 

"  Miinro's  translation,  pp.  77-8. 


314       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

concern  us  not  at  all,  when  the  chain  of  our  self-con- 
sciousness has  once  been  snapped  asunder.  So  now  we 
give  ourselves  no  concern  about  any  self  which  we  have 
been  before,  nor  do  we  feel  any  distress  on  the  score  of 
that  self.  For  when  you  look  back  on  the  whole  past 
course  of  immeasurable  time  and  think  how  manifold 
are  the  shapes  which  the  motions  of  matter  take,  you 
may  easily  credit  this  too,  that  these  very  same  seeds  of 
which  we  now  are  formed,  have  often  before  been  placed 
in  the  same  order  in  which  they  now  are;  and  yet  we 
cannot  recover  this  in  memory :  a  break  in  our  existence 
has  been  interposed,  and  all  the  motions  have  wandered 
to  and  fro  far  astray  from  the  sensations  they  produced. 
For  he  whom  evil  is  to  befall,  must  in  his  own  person 
exist  at  the  very  time  it  comes,  if  the  misery  and  suffering 
are  haply  to  have  any  place  at  all;  but  since  death  pre- 
cludes this,  and  forbids  him  to  be,  upon  whom  the  ills 
can  be  brought,  you  may  be  sure  that  we  have  nothing  to 
fear  after  death,  and  that  he  who  exists  not,  cannot 
become  miserable,  and  that  it  matters  not  a  whit  whether 
he  has  been  born  into  life  at  any  other  time,  when  im- 
mortal death  has  taken  away  his  mortal  life. 

Therefore  when  you  see  a  man  bemoaning  his  hard 
case,  that  after  death  he  shall  either  rot  with  his  body  laid 
in  the  grave  or  be  devoured  by  flames  or  the  jaws  of 
wild  beasts,  you  may  be  sure  that  his  ring  betrays  a  flaw 
and  that  there  lurks  in  his  heart  a  secret  goad,  though 
he  himself  declare  that  he  does  not  believe  that  any  sense 
will  remain  to  him  after  death.  He  does  not,  methinks, 
really  grant  the  conclusion  which  he  professes  to  grant 
nor  the  principle  on  which  he  so  professes,  nor  does  he 
take  and  force  himself  root  and  branch  out  of  life,  but  all 
unconsciously  imagines  something  of  self  to  survive. 


LUCRETIUS  315 

For  when  any  one  in  life  suggests  to  himself  that  birds 
and  beasts  will  rend  his  body  after  death,  he  makes  moan 
for  himself,  he  does  not  separate  himself  from  that  self, 
nor  withdraw  himself  fully  from  the  body  so  thrown  out, 
and  fancies  himself  that  other  self  and  stands  by  and 
impregnates  it  with  his  own  sense.  Hence  he  makes 
much  moan  that  he  has  been  born  mortal,  and  sees  not 
that  after  real  death  there  will  be  no  other  self  to  remain 
in  life  and  lament  to  self  that  his  own  self  has  met  death, 
and  there  to  stand  and  grieve  that  his  own  self  there 
lying  is  mangled  or  burnt.  For  if  it  is  an  evil  after  death 
to  be  pulled  about  by  the  devouring  jaw^s  of  wild  beasts, 
I  cannot  see  why  it  should  not  be  a  cruel  pain  to  be  laid 
on  fires  and  burn  in  hot  flames,  or  to  be  placed  in  honey 
and  stifled,  or  to  stiffen  with  cold,  stretched  on  the 
smooth  surface  of  an  icy  slab  of  stone,  or  to  be  pressed 
down  and  crushed  by  a  load  of  earth  above. 

Then  ^^  there  is  Democritus  who,  when  a  ripe  old  age 
had  warned  him  that  the  memory-waking  motions  of  his 
mind  were  waning,  by  his  own  spontaneous  act  offered 
up  his  head  to  death.  Even  Epicurus  passed  away, 
when  his  light  of  life  had  run  its  course,  he  who  surpassed 
in  intellect  the  race  of  man  and  quenched  the  light  of  all, 
as  the  ethereal  sun  arisen  quenches  the  stars.  Wilt  thou 
then  hesitate  and  think  it  a  hardship  to  die  ?  Thou  for 
whom  life  is  well-nigh  dead  whilst  yet  thou  livest  and 
seest  the  light,  who  spendest  the  greater  part  of  thy 
time  in  sleep  and  snorest  wide  awake  and  ceasest  not  to 
see  visions  and  hast  a  mind  troubled  with  groundless 
terror  and  canst  not  discover  often  what  it  is  that  ails 
thee,  when  besotted  man  thou  art  sore  pressed  on  all 

•  "  Munro's  translation,  p.  82. 


316       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

sides  with  full  many  cares  and  goest  astray  tumbling 
about  in  the  wayward  wanderings  of  thy  mind. 

NO   DESIGNER   OF   NATURE 

But  12  in  what  ways  yon  concourse  of  matter  founded 
earth  and  heaven  and  the  deeps  of  the  sea,  the  courses 
of  the  sun  and  moon,  I  will  next  in  order  describe.  For 
verily  not  by  design  did  the  first-beginnings  of  things 
station  themselves  each  in  its  right  place  by  keen  intel- 
ligence, nor  did  they  bargain  sooth  to  say  what  motions 
each  should  assume,  but  because  the  first-beginnings  of 
things,  many  in  number  in  many  ways  impelled  by  blows 
for  infinite  ages  back  and  kept  in  motion  by  their  own 
w^eights,  have  been  wont  to  be  carried  along  and  to  unite 
in  all  manner  of  ways  and  thoroughly  to  test  every  kind 
of  production  possible  by  their  mutual  combinations, 
therefore  it  is  that,  spread  abroad  through  great  time 
after  trying  imions  and  motions  of  every  kind,  they  at 
length  meet  together  in  those  masses  which  suddenly 
brought  together  become  often  the  rudiments  of  great 
things,  of  earth,  sea,  and  heaven  and  the  race  of  living 
thmgs.  ^*^ 

No  13  act  is  it  of  piety  to  be  often  seen  with  veiled 
head  to  turn  to  a  stone  and  approach  every  altar  and  fall 
prostrate  on  the  ground  and  spread  out  the  palms  before 
the  statues  of  the  gods  and  sprinkle  the  altars  with  much 
blood  of  beasts  and  link  vow  on  to  vow,  but  rather  to  be 
able  to  look  on  all  things  with  a  mind  at  peace. 

12  Munro's  translation,  p.  126- 
"Ib.,  p.  145. 


XX 

EPICTETUS 

[Flourished  about  90  a.d.] 

THINGS   WHICH   ARE   IN   OUR   POWER 

Seek  ^  at  once,  therefore,  to  be  able  to  say  to  every 
unpleasing  semblance,  ^'You  are  but  a  semblance  and  by 
no  means  the  real  thing.''  And  then  examine  it  by  those 
rules  which  you  have;  and  first  and  chiefly,  by  this: 
whether  it  concerns  the  things  which  are  within  our  own 
power,  or  those  which  are  not;  and  if  it  concerns  anything 
beyond  our  power,  be  prepared  to  say  that  it  is  nothing 
to  you.  He 

Men  2  are  disturbed  not  by  things,  but  by  the  views 
which  they  take  of  things.  Thus  death  is  nothing  terri- 
ble, else  it  would  have  appeared  so  to  Socrates.  But  the 
terror  consists  in  our  notion  of  death,  that  it  is  terrible. 
When,  therefore,  we  are  hindered,  or  disturbed,  or  grieved 
let  us  never  impute  it  to  others,  but  to  ourselves;  that 
is,  to  our  own  views.  It  is  the  action  of  an  uninstructed 
person  to  reproach  others  for  his  own  misfortimes;  of 
one  entering  upon  instruction,  to  reproach  himself;  and 
of  one  perfectly  instructed,  to  reproach  neither  others 
nor  himself. 

»  Ench.  I.  Higginson,  II.  216.  The  selections  from  Epictetus  are 
given  in  T.  W.  Higginson's  translation.  I  quote  from  the  two- 
volume  edition,  published  in  1890. 

2  lb.,  V.  Higginson   II.  218. 

317 


318       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Demand  ^  not  that  events  should  happen  as  you  wish; 
but  wish  them  to  happen  as  they  do  happen,  and  you 
will  go  on  well.  * 

Be  ^  assured  that  the  essence  of  piety  toward  the  gods 
lies  in  this,  to  form  right  opinions  concerning  them,  as 
existing;  and  as  governing  the  universe  justly  and  well. 
And  fix  yourself  in  this  resolution,  to  obey  them,  and 
yield  to  them,  and  willingly  follow  them  amidst  all  events, 
as  being  ruled  by  the  most  perfect  wisdom.  For  thus 
you  will  never  find  fault  with  the  gods,  nor  accuse  them 
of  neglecting  you.  And  it  is  not  possible  for  this  to  be 
effected  in  any  other  way  than  by  withdrawing  yourself 
from  things  which  are  not  within  our  own  power,  and  by 
making  good  or  evil  to  consist  only  in  those  which  are. 

* 

As  ^  it  was  fit,  then,  this  most  excellent  and  superior 
faculty  alone,  a  right  use  of  the  appearances  of  things,  the 
gods  have  placed  in  our  own  power;  but  all  other  matters 
they  have  not  placed  in  our  power.  What,  was  it  be- 
cause they  would  not  ?  I  rather  think  that,  if  they  could, 
they  had  granted  us  these  too;  but  they  certainly  could 
not.  For,  placed  upon  earth,  and  confined  to  such  a  body 
and  to  such  companions,  how  was  it  possible  that,  in 
these  respects,  we  should  not  be  hindered  by  things 
outside  of  us? 

But  what  says  Zeus?  '^0  Epictetus,  if  it  had  been 
possible,  I  had  made  this  little  body  and  property  of  thine 
free,  and  not  liable  to  hindrance.  But  now  do  not  mis- 
take; it  is  not  thy  own,  but  only  a  finer  mixture  of  clayc 

3  Ench.  VIII.  Higginson,  II.  219. 
*Ib.,  XXXI.  Higginson,  II.  229. 
BTb.,  XXXI.    Disc.  I.  1.     Higginson,  I.  p.  4. 


EPICTETUS  319 

Since,  then,  I  could  not  give  thee  this,  I  have  given  thee 
a  certain  portion  of  myself;  this  faculty  of  exerting  the 
powers  of  pursuit  and  avoidance,  of  desire  and  aversion, 
and,  in  a  word,  the  use  of  the  appearances  of  things. 
Taking  care  of  this  point,  and  making  what  is  thy  own 
to  consist  in  this,  thou  wilt  never  be  restrained,  never 
be  hindered;  thou  wilt  not  groan,  wilt  not  complain,  wilt 
not  flatter  any  one.  How,  then?  Do  all  these  ad- 
vantages seem  small  to  thee?  Heaven  forbid!  Let 
them  suffice  thee,  then,  and  thank  the  gods." 

But  now,  when  it  is  in  our  power  to  take  care  of  one 
thing,  and  to  apply  ourselves  to  one,  we  choose  rather  to 
take  care  of  many  and  to  encumber  ourselves  with  many 
— body,  property,  brother,  friend,  child,  and  slave — and, 
by  this  multiplicity  of  encumbrances,  we  are  burdened 
and  weighed  down.  Thus,  when  the  weather  does  not 
happen  to  be  fair  for  sailing,  we  sit  in  distress  and  gaze 
out  perpetually,  ^liich  way  is  the  wind?  North. 
What  good  will  that  do  us?  When  will  the  west  blow? 
Wlien  it  pleases,  friend,  or  when^olus  pleases;  for  Zeus 
has  not  made  you  dispenser  of  the  winds,  but  ^Eolus. 

What,  then,  is  to  be  done? 

To  make  the  best  of  what  is  in  our  power,  and  take 
the  rest  as  it  occurs. 

And  how  does  it  occur? 

As  it  pleases  God. 

*  * 

Do  6  you  therefore  likewise,  being  sensible  of  this, 
consider  the  faculties  you  have,  and  after  taking  a  view 
of  them  say,  ''Bring  on  me  now,  0  Zeus,  what  difficulty 
thou  wilt,  for  I  have  faculties  granted  me  by  thee,  and 
powers  by  which  I  may  win  honor  from  every  event "? 

« Ench.  XXXI.     Disc.  I.  6.     Higginson,  I.  26. 


^ 


320       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

THE   ESSENCE   OF  GOOD 

God  ^  is  beneficial.  Good  is  also  beneficial.  It  should 
seem,  then,  that  where  the  essence  of  God  is,  there  too 
is  the  essence  of  good.  What  then  is  the  essence  of  God 
— flesh?  By  no  means.  An  estate?  Fame?  By  no 
means.  Intelligence?  Knowledge?  Right  reason? 
Certainly.  Here,  then,  without  more  ado,  seek  the 
essence  of  good.  For  do  you  seek  that  quality  in  a  plant  ? 
No.  Or  in  a  brute?  No.  If,  then,  you  seek  it  only  in  a 
rational  subject,  why  do  you  seek  it  anywhere  but  in 
what  distinguishes  that  from  things  irrational?  Plants 
make  no  voluntary  use  of  things,  and  therefore  you  do 
not  apply  the  term  good  to  them.  Good,  then,  im- 
plies such  use.  And  nothing  else?  If  so,  you  may  say 
that  good  and  happiness  and  unhappiness  belong  to 
mere  animals.  But  this  you  do  not  say,  and  you  are 
right;  for,  how  much  soever  they  have  the  use  of  things, 
they  have  not  the  intelligent  use,  and  with  good  reason, 
for  they  are  made  to  be  subservient  to  others,  and  not  of 
primary  importance.  Why  was  an  ass  made?  Was  it 
as  being  of  primary  importance?  No;  but  because  we 
had  need  of  a  back  able  to  carry  burdens.  We  had  need 
too  that  he  should  be  capable  of  locomotion;  therefore 
he  had  the  voluntary  use  of  things  added,  otherwise  he 
could  not  have  moved.  But  here  his  endowments  end; 
for,  if  an  understanding  of  that  use  had  been  likewise 
added,  he  would  not,  in  reason,  have  been  subject  to  us, 
nor  have  done  us  these  services,  but  would  have  been  like 
and  equal  to  ourselves.  Why  will  you  not,  therefore, 
seek  the  essence  of  good  in  that  without  which  you 
cannot  say  that  there  is  good  in  anything? 

»  Ench.  XXXI.     Disc.  II.  8.     Higginson,  I.  132-4. 


EPICTETUS  321 

What  then?  Are  not  all  these  hkewise  the  works  of 
the  gods?  They  are;  but  not  primary  existences,  nor 
parts  of  the  gods.  But  you  are  a  primary  existence. 
You  are  a  distinct  portion  of  the  essence  of  God,  and' 
contain  a  certain  part  of  him  in  yourself.  Why  then  are 
you  ignorant  of  your  noble  birth?  Why  do  not  you 
consider  whence  you  came  ?  Why  do  not  you  remember, 
when  you  are  eating,  who  you  are  who  eat,  and  whom 
you  feed?  When  you  are  in  the  company  of  women, 
when  you  are  conversing,  when  you  are  exercising,  when 
you  are  disputing,  do  not  you  know  that  it  is  the  Divine 
you  feed,  the  Divine  you  exercise?  You  carry  a  God 
about  with  you,  poor  wretch,  and  know  nothing  of  it. 
Do  you  suppose  I  mean  some  god  without  you  of  gold  or 
silver  ?  It  is  within  yourself  that  you  carry  him ;  and  you 
do  not  observe  that  you  profane  him  by  impure  thoughts 
and  unclean  actions.  If  the  mere  external  image  of  God 
were  present,  you  would  not  dare  to  act  as  you  do;  and 
when  God  himself  is  within  you,  and  hears  and  sees  all, 
are  not  you  ashamed  to  think  and  act  thus — insensible 

of  your  own  nature,  and  at  enmity  with  God  ? 

* 

*  * 

Does  s  any  one  fear  things  that  seem  evils  indeed, 
but  which  it  is  in  his  own  power  to  prevent  ? 

No,  surely. 

If,  then,  the  things  independent  of  our  will  are  neither 
good  nor  evil,  and  all  things  that  do  depend  on  will  are 
in  our  own  power,  and  can  neither  be  taken  away  from 
us  nor  given  to  us  unless  we  please,  what  room  is  there 
left  for  anxiety?  But  we  are  anxious  about  this  paltry 
body  or  estate  of  ours,  or  about  what  Caesar  thinks,  and 
not  at  all  about  anything  internal.     Are  we  ever  anxious 

»  Ench.  XXXI.     Disc,  11.  13.     Higginson,  I.  153-4. 


322       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

not  to  take  up  a  false  opinion?  No;  for  this  is  within 
our  own  powder.  Or  not  to  follow  any  pursuit  contrary 
to  nature?  No,  nor  this.  When,  therefore,  you  see  any 
one  pale  with  anxiety,  just  as  the  physician  pronounces 
from  the  complexion  that  such  a  patient  is  disordered  in 
the  spleen,  and  another  in  the  liver,  so  do  you  likewise 
say,  this  man  is  disordered  in  his  desires  and  aversions; 
he  cannot  walk  steadily;  he  is  in  a  fever.  For  nothing 
else  changes  the  complexion,  or  causes  trembling,  or  sets 
the  teeth  chattering. 

AS    SOCRATES   WOULD    HAVE    DONE 

When  ^  you  are  going  to  confer  with  any  one,  and 
especially  wuth  one  w^ho  seems  your  superior,  represent 
to  yourself  how  Socrates  or  Zeno  would  behave  in  such  a 
case,  and  you  will  not  be  at  a  loss  to  meet  properly  what- 
ever may  occur.  .  .  .  When  you  do  anything  from  a 
clear  judgment  that  it  ought  to  be  done,  never  shrink 
from  being  seen  to  do  it,  even  though  the  world  should 
misunderstand  it;  for  if  you  are  not  acting  rightly,  shun 
the  action  itseK;  if  you  are,  why  fear  those  who  wrongly 
censure  you  ? 

*  * 

Everything  1°  has  two  handles:  one  by  which  it  may 
be  borne,  another  by  which  it  cannot.  If  your  brother 
acts  unjustly,  do  not  lay  hold  on  the  affair  by  the  handle 
of  his  injustice,  for  by  that  it  cannot  be  borne;  but  rather 
by  the  opposite,  that  he  is  your  brother,  that  he  was 
brought  up  with  you;  and  thus  you  will  lay  hold  on  it  as 
it  is  to  be  borne. 

»  Ench.  XXXIII.  and  XXXV.     Higginson,  II.  234-5. 
10  lb.,  XLIII.     Higginson,  II.  238. 


EPICTETUS  323 

Never  ^^  proclaim  yourself  a  philosopher;  nor  make 
much  talk  among  the  ignorant  about  your  principles, 
but  show  them  by  actions.  Thus,  at  an  entertainment 
do  not  discourse  how  people  ought  to  eat;  but  eat  as  you 
ought.  For  remember  that  thus  Socrates  also  universally 
avoided  all  ostentation.  And  when  persons  came  to 
him,  and  desired  to  be  introduced  by  him  to  philosophers, 
he  took  them  and  introduced  them;  so  well  did  he  bear 
being  overlooked.  So  if  ever  there  should  be  among  the 
ignorant  any  discussion  of  principles,  be  for  the  most  part 
silent.  For  there  is  great  danger  in  hastily  throwing  out 
what  is  undigested.  And  if  any  one  tells  you  that  you 
know  nothing,  and  you  are  not  nettled  at  it,  then  you 
may  be  sure  that  you  have  really  entered  on  your  work. 
For  sheep  do  not  hastily  throw  up  the  grass,  to  show  the 
shepherds  how  much  they  have  eaten;  but,  inwardly 
digesting  their  food,  they  produce  it  outwardly  in  wool 
and  milk.  Thus,  therefore,  do  you  not  make  an  exhi- 
bition before  the  ignorant  of  your  principles;  but  of  the 
actions  to  which  their  digestion  gives  rise. 

*  * 
Whatever  ^^  rules  you  have  adopted,  abide  by  them 
as  laws,  and  as  if  you  would  be  impious  to  transgress 
them;  and  do  not  regard  what  any  one  says  of  you,  for 
this,  after  all,  is  no  concern  of  yours.  .  .  .  Let  whatever 
appears  to  be  the  best,  be  to  you  an  inviolable  law. 
And  if  any  instance  of  pain  or  pleasure,  glory  or  disgrace, 
be  set  before  you,  remember  that  now  is  the  combat, 
now  the  Olympiad  comes  on,  nor  can  it  be  put  off;  and 
that  by  one  failure  and  defeat  honor  may  be  lost — or 
won.     Thus  Socrates  became  perfect,  improving  himself 

"  Ench.  XL VI.     Higginson,  II.  239. 
"lb.,  L.     Higginson,  II.  241. 


324       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

by  everything,  following  reason  alone.  And  though 
you  are  not  yet  a  Socrates,  you  ought,  however,  to  live 
as  one  seeking  to  be  a  Socrates. 

IN    HARMONY   WITH    GOD    AND    HIS    UNIVERSE 

All  13  things  serve  and  obey  the  [laws  of  the]  universe : 
the  earth,  the  sea,  the  sun,  the  stars,  and  the  plants  and 
animals  of  the  earth.  Our  body  likewise  obeys  the  same, 
in  being  sick  and  well,  young  and  old,  and  passing 
through  the  other  changes  decreed.  It  is  therefore 
reasonable  that  what  depends  on  ourselves,  that  is,  our 
own  understanding,  should  not  be  the  only  rebel.  For 
the  universe  is  powerful  and  superior,  and  consults  the 
best  for  us  by  governing  us  in  conjunction  with  the 
whole.  And  further,  opposition,  besides  that  it  is  un- 
reasonable, and  produces  nothing  except  a  vain  struggle, 
throws  us  into  pain  and  sorrows. 

Bring  ^^  whatever  you  please,  and  I  will  turn  it  into 
good.  Bring  sickness,  death,  want,  reproach,  trial  for 
life.  All  these,  by  the  rod  of  Hermes,  shall  turn  to  ad- 
vantage. ''What  will  you  make  of  death  ?''  Why,  what 
but  an  ornament  to  you ;  what  but  a  means  of  your  show- 
ing, by  action,  what  that  man  is  who  knows  and  follow^s 
the  will  of  Nature?  ''"What  will  you  make  of  sickness?" 
I  will  show  its  nature.  I  will  make  a  good  figure  in  it; 
I  will  be  composed  and  happy;  I  will  not  beseech  my 
physician,  nor  yet  will  I  pray  to  die.  What  need  you  ask 
further?  Whatever  you  give  me,  I  will  make  it  happy, 
fortunate,  respectable,  and  eligible. 

No,  but,  "take   care  not  to  be  sick — it  is  an  evil.'' 

"  Fr.  CXXXI.     Higginson,  II.  276. 
"  Disc.  III.  20.     Hiffginson,  II.  59. 


EPICTETUS  325 

Just  as  if  one  should  say,  'Take  care  that  the  semblance 
of  three  being  four  does  not  present  itself  to  you.  It  is 
an  evil."  How  an  evil,  man?  If  I  think  as  I  ought 
about  it,  what  hurt  will  it  any  longer  do  me  ?  Will  it  not 
rather  be  even  an  advantage  to  me  ?  If  then  I  think  as  I 
ought  of  poverty,  of  sickness,  of  political  disorder,  is  not 
that  enough  for  me  ?  Why  then  must  I  any  longer  seek 
good  or  evil  in  externals  ? 

*  * 
For  1^  all  other  pleasures  substitute  the  consciousness 
that  you  are  obeying  God,  and  performing  not  in  word, 
but  in  deed,  the  duty  of  a  wise  and  good  man.  How 
great  a  thing  is  it  to  be  able  to  say  to  yourself:  ''What 
others  are  now  solemnly  arguing  in  the  schools,  and  can 
state  in  paradoxes,  this  I  put  in  practice.  Those  quali- 
ties which  are  there  discoursed,  disputed,  celebrated,  I 
have  made  mine  own.  Zeus  hath  been  pleased  to  let 
me  recognize  this  within  myself,  and  himself  to  discern 
whether  he  hath  in  me  one  fit  for  a  soldier  and  a  citizen, 
and  to  employ  me  as  a  witness  to  other  men,  concerning 
things  uncontrollable  by  will.  See  that  your  fears  were 
vain,  your  appetites  vain.  Seek  not  good  from  without; 
seek  it  within  yourselves,  or  you  will  never  find  it.  For 
this  reason  he  now  brings  me  hither,  now  sends  me  thither; 
sets  me  before  mankind,  poor,  powerless,  sick;  banishes 
me  to  Gyaros;  leads  me  to  prison;  not  that  he  hates  me — 
Heaven  forbid!  for  who  hates  the  most  faithful  of  his 
servants? — nor  that  he  neglects  me,  for  he  neglects  not 
one  of  the  smallest  things;  but  to  exercise  me,  and  make 
use  of  me  as  a  witness  to  others.  Appointed  to  such  a 
service,  do  I  still  care  where  I  am,  or  with  whom,  or 
what  is  said  of  me — instead  of  being  wholly  attentive  to 
God  and  to  his  orders  and  commands?" 

»  Disc.  III.  24.     Higginson.  II.  107. 


XXI 

MARCUS  AURELIUS 

[120-180  A.D.] 

FOLLOW  NATURE 

Do  1  thou  therefore  I  say  absolutely  and  freely  make 
choice  of  that  which  is  best,  and  stick  unto  it.  Now, 
that  they  say  is  best  which  is  most  profitable.  If  they 
mean  profitable  to  man  as  he  is  a  rational  man,  stand 
thou  to  it  and  maintain  it;  but  if  they  mean  profitable 
as  he  is  a  creature  only,  reject  it;  and  from  this  thy 
tenet  and  conclusion  keep  off  carefully  all  plausible 
shows  and  colors  of  external  appearance,  that  thou 
mayst  be  able  to  discern  things  rightly. 

*     * 

The  end  ^  and  object  of  a  rational  constitution  is,  to 
do  nothing  rashly,  to  be  kindly  affected  toward  men, 
and  in  all  things  willingly  to  submit  unto  the  gods. 
Casting  therefore  all  other  things  aside,  keep  thyself  to 
these  few,  and  remember  withal  that  no  man  properly 
can  be  said  to  live  more  than  that  which  is  now  present, 
which  is  but  a  moment  of  time.  Whatsoever  is  besides 
either  is  already  past,  or  is  uncertain.  The  time  there- 
fore that  any  man  doth  live  is  but  a  little,  and  the  place 
where  he  liveth  is  but  a  very  little  corner  of  the  earth,  and 

*  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  III.  7.  The  extracts  from  Marcus 
Aurelius  are,  save  for  a  few  unimportant  changes,  given  in  the 
translation  made  by  Casaubon  early  in  the  17th  century. 

2  lb..  III.  10. 

326 


MARCUS  AURELIUS  327 

the  greatest  fame  that  can  remain  of  a  man  after  his 
death,  even  that  is  but  httle,  and  that  too,  such  as  it  is 
whilst  it  is,  is  by  the  succession  of  silly  mortal  men  pre- 
served, who  likewise  shall  shortly  die,  and  even  while 
they  live  know  not  what  in  very  deed  they  themselves 
are:  and  much  less  can  know  one  who  long  before  is 
dead  and  gone.  ^ 

Whatsoever  ^  is  expedient  unto  thee,  0  World,  is 
expedient  unto  me.  Nothing  can  either  be  unseasonable 
unto  me,  or  out  of  date,  which  unto  thee  is  seasonable. 
Whatsoever  thy  seasons  bear  shall  ever  by  me  be  es- 
teemed as  happy  fruit  and  increase.  0  Nature!  from 
thee  are  all  things,  in  thee  all  things  subsist,  and  to  thee 
all  tend.  Could  he  say  of  Athens,  Thou  lovely  City  of 
Cecrops ;  and  shalt  not  thou  say  of  the  World,  Thou  lovely 
City  of  God?  .        ^*^ 

He  ^  that  seeth  the  things  that  are  now  hath  seen  all 
that  either  was  ever  or  ever  shall  be,  for  all  things  are  of 
one  kind  and  all  like  one  unto  another.  Meditate  often 
upon  the  connection  of  all  things  in  the  world,  and  upon 
the  mutual  relation  that  they  have  one  unto  another. 
For  all  things  are  after  a  sort  folded  and  involved  one 
within  another,  and  by  these  means  all  agree  well  to- 
gether. For  one  thing  is  consequent  unto  another  by 
local  motion,  by  natural  conspiration  and  agreement, 
and  by  substantial  union  or  the  reduction  of  all  sub- 
stances into  One. 

Fit  and  accommodate  thyself  to  that  estate  and  to 
those  occurrences  which  by  the  destinies  have  been 
annexed  unto  thee ;  and  love  those  men  whom  thy  fate 

3  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  IV.  19. 
«Ib.,  VI.  34-5. 


328       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

it  is  to  live  with;  but  love  them  truly.  An  instrument, 
a  tool,  an  utensil,  whatsoever  it  be,  if  it  be  fit  for  the 
purpose  it  was  made  for  it  is  as  it  should  be,  though  he 
perchance  that  made  and  fitted  it  be  out  of  sight  and 
gone.  But  in  things  natural,  that  power  which  hath 
framed  and  fitted  them  is  and  abideth  within  them  still. 
For  which  reason  she  ought  also  the  more  to  be  respected, 
and  we  are  the  more  obliged  (if  we  may  live  and  pass  our 
time  according  to  her  purpose  and  intention)  to  think 
that  all  is  well  with  us  and  according  to  our  own  minds. 
After  this  manner  also  ...  He  that  is  all  in  all  doth 
enjoy  his  happiness.  * 

We  ^  all  work  to  one  effect,  some  willingly  and  with  a 
rational  apprehension  of  what  we  do,  others  without  any 

such  knowledge.  ^ 

*  * 

If  6  so  be  that  the  gods  have  deliberated  in  particular 
of  those  things  that  should  happen  unto  me,  I  must 
stand  to  their  deliberation,  as  discreet  and  wise.  For 
that  a  god  should  be  an  imprudent  god  is  a  thing  hard 
even  to  conceive.  And  why  should  they  resolve  to  do 
me  hurt?  For  what  profit  either  unto  them  or  the 
universe  (which  they  specially  take  care  for)  could  arise 
from  it  ?  But  if  so  be  that  they  have  not  deliberated  of 
me  in  particular,  certainly  they  have  of  the  whole  in 
general,  and  those  things  which  in  consequence  and 
coherence  of  this  general  deliberation  happen  unto  me 
in  particular  I  am  bound  to  embrace  and  accept  of.  But 
if  so  be  that  .  .  .  they  have  not  indeed,  either  in 
general  or  particular,  deliberated  of  any  of  those  things 
that  happen  unto  us  in  this  world,  yet  God  be  thanked 

» Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  VI.  37. 
•lb.,  VI.  39. 


MARCUS  AURELIUS  329 

that  of  those  things  that  concern  myself  it  is  lawful  for 
me  to  deliberate  myself,  and  all  my  deliberation  is  but 
concerning  that  which  may  be  to  me  most  profitable. 
Now  that  unto  every  one  is  most  profitable  which  is 
according  to  his  own  constitution  and  nature.  And  my 
nature  is  to  be  rational  in  all  my  actions  and,  as  a 
good  and  natural  member  of  a  city  and  commonwealth, 
toward  my  fellow-members  ever  to  be  sociably  and 
kindly  disposed  and  affected.  My  city  and  country  as 
I  am  Antoninus  is  Rome;  as  a  man,  the  whole  world. 
Those  things  therefore  that  are  expedient  and  profitable 
to  those  cities  are  the  only  things  that  are  good  and 
expedient  for  me.  * 

Either  '^  with  Epicurus  we  must  fondly  imagine  the 
atoms  to  be  the  cause  of  all  things,  or  we  must  needs 
grant  a  nature.  Let  this  then  be  thy  first  ground,  that 
thou  art  part  of  that  universe  which  is  governed  by 
nature.  Then,  secondly,  that  to  those  parts  that  are 
of  the  same  kind  and  nature  as  thou  art  thou  hast 
relation  of  kindred.  For  of  these  if  I  shall  always  be 
mindful,  first,  as  I  am  a  part,  I  shall  never  be  displeased 
with  anything  that  falls  to  my  particular  share  of  the 
common  chances  of  the  world.  For  nothing  that  i^ 
behooveful  unto  the  whole  can  be  truly  hurtful  to  that 
which  is  a  part  of  it.  For  this  being  the  common 
privilege  of  all  natures,  that  they  contain  nothing  in 
themselves  that  is  hurtful  unto  them,  it  cannot  be  that 
the  nature  of  the  universe  (whose  privilege  beyond  other 
particular  natures  is  that  she  cannot  against  her  will 
by  any  higher  external  cause  be  constrained)  should 
beget  anything  and  cherish  it  in  her  bosom  that  should 

7  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  X.  6. 


330       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

tend  to  her  own  hurt  and  prejudice.  As  then  I  bear  in 
mind  that  I  am  a  part  of  such  an  universe  I  shall  not  be 
displeased  with  anything  that  happens.  And  as  I  have 
relation  of  kindred  to  those  parts  that  are  of  the  same 
kind  and  nature  that  I  am,  so  I  shall  be  careful  to  do 
nothing  that  is  prejudicial  to  the  community,  but  in  all 
my  deliberations  shall  they  that  are  of  my  kind  ever  be ; 
and  the  common  good  shall  be  that  which  all  my 
intentions  and  resolutions  shall  drive  unto,  just  as  that 
which  is  contrary  unto  it  I  shall  by  all  means  endeavor 
to  prevent  and  avoid.  These  things  once  so  fixed  and 
concluded,  as  thou  wouldest  think  him  an  happy  citizen 
whose  constant  study  and  practice  were  for  the  good  and 
benefit  of  his  fellow-citizens,  and  the  carriage  of  the 
city  such  toward  him  that  he  were  well  pleased  with  it 
— so  must  it  needs  be  with  thee  that  thou  shalt  live  a 
happy  life.  ^*^ 

Ever  s  consider  and  think  upon  the  world  as  being  but 
^  one  Uving  substance  and  having  but  one  soul;  and  how 
all  things  in  the  world  are  terminated  into  one  sensitive 
power,  and  are  done  by  one  general  motion,  as  it  were, 
and  by  the  deliberation  of  that  one  soul;  and  how  all 
things  that  are  concur  in  the  cause  of  one  another's 
being,  and  by  what  manner  of  connection  and  con- 
catenation all  things  happen. 

What  art  thou,  that  better  and  divine  part  excepted, 
but  as  Epictetus  well  said,  a  wretched  soul  appointed  to 
carry  a  carcass  up  and  down? 

To  suffer  change  can  be  no  hurt;  as  no  benefit  it  is  by 
change  to  attain  to  being.  The  age  and  time  of  the 
world  is  as  it  were  a  flood  and  swift  current,  consisting 

«  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  IV.  33-4. 


MARCUS  AURELIUS  331 

of  the  things  that  are  brought  to  pass  in  the  world.  For 
as  soon  as  anything  hath  appeared  and  is  passed  away 
another  succeeds,  and  that  also  will  pass  presently  out 
of  sight.  * 

They  ^  will  say  commonly,  Meddle  not  with  many 
things  if  thou  wilt  live  cheerfully.  Certainly  there  is 
nothing  better  than  for  a  man  to  confine  himself  to 
necessary  actions;  to  such  and  so  many  only  as  reason 
in  a  creature  that  knows  itseK  born  for  society  will 
command  and  enjoin.  This  will  not  only  procure  that 
cheerfulness,  w^hich  from  the  goodness,  but  that  also 
which  from  the  paucity  of  actions  doth  usually  proceed. 
For  since  it  is  so,  that  most  of  those  things  which  we 
either  speak  or  do  are  unnecessary,  if  a  man  shall  cut 
them  off,  it  must  needs  follow  that  he  shall  thereby  gain 
much  leisure  and  save  much  trouble;  and  therefore  at 
every  action  a  man  must  privately  by  way  of  admonition 
suggest  unto  himself,  What?  may  not  this  that  now  I 
go  about  be  of  the  number  of  unnecessary  actions? 
Neither  must  he  accustom  himself  to  cut  off  actions  only, 
but  also  thoughts  and  imaginations  that  are  unnecessary ; 
for  so  will  unnecessary  consequent  actions  the  better  be 
prevented  and  cut  off. 

THE   HARMONY   OF  THE   UNIVERSE 

All  1°  parts  of  the  world  (all  things  I  mean  that  are 
contained  within  the  whole  world)  must  of  necessity  at 
some  time  or  other  come  to  corruption.  Alteration  I 
should  say,  to  speak  truly  and  properly;  but  that  I  may 
be  the  better  understood  I  am  content  at  this  time  to  use 
that  more  common  word.     Now,  say  I,  if  so  be  that  this 

"  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  IV.  20. 
»o  lb.,  X.  7. 


332       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

be  both  hurtful  unto  them  and  yet  unavoidable,  would 
not,  thinkest  thou,  the  whole  itself  be  in  a  sweet  case,  all 
the  parts  of  it  being  subject  to  alteration — yea  and  by 
their  making  the  whole  itself  fitted  for  corruption  as 
consisting  of  things  different  and  contrary?  And  did 
nature  then  either  of  herself  thus  project  and  purpose  the 
affliction  and  misery  of'  her  parts,  and  therefore  of  pur- 
pose so  made  them,  not  only  that  haply  they  might,  but 
of  necessity  that  they  should  fall  into  evil;  or  did  not  she 
know  what  she  did  when  she  made  them?  For  to  say 
either  of  these  things  is  equally  absurd.  But  to  let 
pass  nature  in  general,  and  to  reason  of  things  particular 
according  to  their  own  particular  natures,  how  absurd 
and  ridiculous  is  it,  first  to  say  that  all  parts  of  the 
whole  are  by  their  proper  natural  constitution  subject 
to  alteration,  and  then  when  any  such  thing  doth  happen 
as  when  one  doth  fall  sick  and  dieth,  to  take  on  and 
wonder  as  though  some  strange  thing  had  happened? 
Though  this  besides  might  move  us  not  to  take  on  so 
grievously  when  any  such  thing  doth  happen,  that 
whatsoever  is  dissolved  is  dissolved  into  those  things 
whereof  it  was  compounded.  For  every  dissolution  is 
either  a  mere  dispersion  of  the  elements  into  those 
elements  again  whereof  everything  did  consist,  or  a 
change  of  that  which  is  more  solid  into  earth,  and  of 
that  which  is  pure  and  subtile  or  spiritual  into  air.  So 
that  by  this  means  nothing  is  lost,  but  all  is  resumed 
again  into  those  rational  generative  seeds  of  the  universe, 
and  this  universe  is  either  after  a  certain  period  of  time 
to  be  consumed  by  fire  or  by  continual  changes  to  be 
renewed,  and  so  forever  to  endure.  Now,  that  solid  and 
spiritual  that  we  speak  of,  thou  must  not  conceive  it  to 
be  that  very  same  which  at  first  was  when  thou  wert 


MARCUS   AURELIUS  333 

born.  For  alas!  all  this  that  now  thou  art  in  either  kind, 
either  for  matter  of  substance  or  of  life,  hath  but  two 
or  three  days  ago,  partly  from  meats  eaten  and  partly 
from  air  breathed  in,  received  all  its  influx,  being  the 
same  then  in  no  other  respect  than  a  running  river, 
maintained  by  the  perpetual  influx  and  new  supply  of 
waters,  is  the  same.  That  therefore  which  thou  hast 
since  received,  not  that  which  came  from  thy  mother, 
is  that  which  comes  to  change  and  corruption.  But  sup- 
pose that  that  for  the  general  substance  and  more  solid 
part  of  it  should  still  cleave  unto  thee  never  so  close,  yet 
what  is  that  to  the  proper  qualities  and  affections  of  it 
by  which  persons  are  distinguished,  which  certainly  are 
quite  different?  * 

Whatsoever  ^^  doth  happen  in  the  world  is,  in  the 
course  of  nature,  as  usual  and  ordinary  as  a  rose  in  the 
spring  and  fruit  in  summer.  Of  the  same  nature  is 
sickness  and  death,  slander  and  lying  in  wait,  and 
whatsoever  else  ordinarily  doth  unto  fools  use  to  be 
occasion  either  of  joy  or  sorrow.  That,  whatsoever  it 
is  that  comes  after,  doth  always  very  naturally,  and  as 
it  were  familiarly,  follow  upon  that  which  was  before. 
For  thou  must  consider  the  things  of  the  w^orld  not  as  a 
loose  independent  number  consisting  merely  of  neces- 
sary events,  but  as  a  discreet  connection  of  things  orderly 
and  harmoniously  disposed.  There  is  then  to  be  seen 
in  the  things  of  the  world,  not  a  bare  succession,  but  an 
admirable  correspondence  and  affinity. 

*** 

As^^  we  say  commonly,  the  physician  hath  prescribed 

unto  this  man  riding;  unto  another,  cold  baths;  unto  a 

"  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  IV.  36. 
12  lb.,  V.  8. 


334       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

third,  to  go  barefoot :  so  it  is  alike  to  say,  The  nature  of 
the  universe  hath  prescribed  unto  this  man  sickness  or 
blindness  or  some  loss  or  damage  or  some  such  thing. 
For  as  there,  when  we  say  of  a  physician  that  he  hath 
prescribed  anything,  our  meaning  is  that  he  hath  ap- 
pointed this  for  that,  as  subordinate  and  conducing  to 
health;  so  here,  whatsoever  doth  happen  unto  any  is 
ordained  unto  him  as  a  thing  subordinate  unto  the  fates, 
and  therefore  do  we  say  of  such  things  that  they  do 
avfjL^alvecv,  that  is,  happen,  or  fall  together;  as  of  square 
stones,  when  either  in  walls  or  pyramids  in  a  certain 
position  they  fit  one  another,  and  agree  as  it  were  in  an 
harmony,  the  masons  say  that  they  do  avfi^alveiv]  as 
if  thou  shouldst  say,  fall  together.  So  that  in  general 
though  the  things  be  divers  that  make  it,  yet  the  consent 
or  harmony  itself  is  but  one.  And  as  the  whole  world  is 
made  up  of  all  the  particular  bodies  of  the  world,  one 
perfect  and  complete  body  of  the  same  nature  as  par- 
ticular bodies :  so  is  the  destiny  of  particular  causes  and 
events  one  general  one,  of  the  same  nature  that  particular 
causes  are.  What  I  now  say  even  they  that  are  mere 
idiots  are  not  ignorant  of,  for  they  say  commonly  rovro 
€(f)6pev  avTQ),  that  is.  This  his  Destiny  hath  brought  upon 
him.  This  therefore  is  by  the  Fates  properly  and  par- 
ticularly brought  upon  this,  as  that  unto  this  in  par- 
ticular is  by  the  physician  prescribed.  These  therefore 
let  us  accept  of  in  like  manner  as  we  do  those  that  are 
prescribed  unto  us  by  our  physicians.  For  them  also 
in  themselves  shall  we  find  to  contain  many  harsh  things, 
but  we  nevertheless,  in  hope  of  health  and  recovery, 
accept  of  them.  Let  the  fulfilling  and  accomplishment 
of  those  things  which  the  common  nature  hath  de- 
termined be  unto  thee  as  thy  health.     Accept  them, 


MARCUS  AURELIUS  335 

an(^  be  pleased  with  whatsoever  doth  happen  though 
otherwise  harsh  and  unpleasing,  as  tending  to  that  end, 
to  the  health  and  welfare  of  the  universe,  and  to  Jove's 
happiness  and  prosperity.  For  this,  whatsoever  it  be, 
would  not  have  been  produced  had  it  not  conduced  to  the 
good  of  the  imi verse.  For  neither  doth  any  ordinary 
particular  nature  bring  anything  to  pass  that  is  not 
agreeable  and  subordinate  to  whatsoever  is  within  the 
sphere  of  its  own  proper  administration  and  government. 
For  these  two  considerations  then  thou  must  be  well  ^ 
pleased  with  anything  that  doth  happen  unto  thee. 
First,  because  for  thee  properly  it  was  brought  to  pass 
and  unto  thee  it  was  prescribed,  and  from  the  very 
beginning,  by  the  series  and  connection  of  the  first 
causes,  it  hath  ever  had  a  reference  unto  thee.  And 
secondly,  because  the  good  success  and  perfect  welfare, 
and  indeed  the  very  continuance  of  Him  that  is  the 
Administrator  of  the  whole,  doth  in  a  manner  depend  on 
it.  For  the  whole  (because  whole,  therefore  entire  and 
perfect)  is  maimed  and  mutilated  if  thou  shalt  cut  off 
anything  at  all  whereby  the  coherence  and  contiguity 
(as  of  parts,  so)  of  causes  is  maintained  and  preserved. 
Of  which  certain  it  is  that  thou  dost  (as  much  as  lieth 
in  thee)  cut  off,  and  in  some  sort  violently  take  some- 
what away,  as  often  as  thou  art  displeased  with  any- 
thing that  happeneth.  * 

Thou  ^^  must  comfort  thyself  in  the  expectation  of  thy 
natural  dissolution  and  in  the  meantime  not  grieve  at  the 
delay,  but  rest  contented  in  these  two  things :  First,  that*^ 
nothing  shall  happen  unto  thee  which  is  not  according 
to  the  nature  of  the  universe.     Secondly,  that  it  is  in^- 

"  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  V.  10. 


-^ 


336       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

thy  power  to  refrain  from  doing  anything  contrary  to 
thine  own  proper  god  and  inward  spirit.  For  it  is  not  in 
any  man's  power  to  constrain  thee  to  transgress  against 
him. 

man's  insignificance  and  his  grandeur 

What  1^  a  small  portion  of  vast  and  infinite  eternity 
it  is  that  is  allowed  unto  every  one  of  us,  and  how  soon 
it  vanisheth  into  the  general  age  of  the  world.  Of  the 
common  substance  and  of  the  common  soul  also,  what  a 
small  portion  is  allotted  unto  us,  and  in  what  a  little  clod 
of  the  whole  earth  it  is  that  thou  dost  crawl.  After 
thou  shalt  rightly  have  considered  these  things  with 
thyself  fancy  not  anything  else  in  the  world  any  more 
to  be  of  any  weight  and  moment,  but  this:  to  do  that 
only  which  thine  own  nature  doth  require,  and  to  con- 
form thyself  to  that  which  the  common  nature  doth 
afford. 

What  is  the  present  estate  of  my  understanding? 
For  herein  lieth  all  indeed.  As  for  all  other  things  they 
are  without  the  compass  of  mine  own  will,  and  if  without 
the  compass  of  my  will  then  are  they  as  dead  things  unto 
me  and  as  it  were  mere  smoke. 

To  stir  up  a  man  to  the  contempt  of  death  this  among 
other  things  is  of  good  power  and  efficacy,  that  even  they 
who  esteemed  pleasure  to  be  happiness  and  pain  misery 
did  nevertheless  many  of  them  contemn  death  as  much 
as  any.  And  can  death  be  terrible  to  him  to  whom  that 
only  seems  good  which  in  the  ordinary  course  of  nature 
is  seasonable?  to  him  to  whom,  whether  his  actions  be 
many  or  few,  so  they  be  all  good,  is  all  one;  and  who, 
whether  he  behold  the  things  of  the  world  being  always 
the  same,  either  for  many  years  or  for  few  years  only,  is 

"  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  XII.  25. 


MARCUS  AURELIUS  337 

altogether  indifferent  ?  0  man !  as  a  citizen  thou  hast  lived 
and  conversed  in  this  great  City  the  World.  Whether 
just  for  so  many  years  or  no,  what  is  it  unto  thee  ?  Thou 
hast  lived  (thou  mayst  be  sure)  as  long  as  the  laws  and 
orders  of  the  city  required;  which  may  be  the  common 
comfort  of  all.  Why  then  should  it  be  grievous  unto  thee 
if  [not  a  tyrant  nor  an  unjust  judge,  but]  the  same  nature 
that  brought  thee  into  the  world  doth  now  send  thee  out 
of  it  ?  It  is  as  if  the  praetor  should  fairly  dismiss  him  from 
the  stage  whom  he  had  taken  in  to  act  a  while.  Oh, 
but  the  play  is  not  yet  at  an  end,  there  are  but  three  acts 
yet  acted  of  it  ?  Thou  hast  well  said,  for  in  matter  of  life 
three  acts  is  the  whole  play.  Now  to  set  a  certain  time 
to  every  man's  acting  belongs  unto  him  only  who  as 
first  he  was  the  cause  of  thy  composition  so  now  is  he  the 
cause  of  thy  dissolution.  As  for  thyself,  thou  hast  to 
do  with  neither.  Go  thy  ways  then  well  pleased  and 
contented,  for  so  is  He  that  dismisseth  thee. 

*  * 
To  ^^  live  happily  is  an  inward  power  of  the  soul  when 

she  is  affected  with  indifference  toward  those  things 
that  are  by  their  nature  indifferent.  To  be  thus  affected 
she  must  consider  all  worldly  objects,  both  divided  and 
whole,  remembering  withal  that  no  object  can  of  itself 
beget  any  opinion  in  us,  neither  can  come  to  us,  but 
stands  without,  still  and  quiet;  but  that  we  ourselves 
beget,  and  as  it  were  print  in  ourselves,  opinions  con- 
cerning them.  Now  it  is  in  our  power  not  to  print 
them;  and  if  they  creep  in  and  lurk  in  some  corner,  it 
is  in  our  power  to  wipe  them  off.  Remembering,  more- 
over, that  this  care  and  circumspection  of  thine  is  to 
continue  but  for  a  while,  and  then  thy  life  will  be  at  an 

"  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  XI.  15. 


338       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

end.  And  what  should  hinder  but  that  thou  mayst 
do  well  with  all  these  things?  For  if  they  be  according 
to  nature,  rejoice  in  them  and  let  them  be  pleasing  and 
acceptable  unto  thee.  But  if  they  be  against  nature, 
seek  thou  that  which  is  according  to  thine  own  nature, 
and  whether  it  be  for  thy  credit  or  no,  use  all  possible 
speed  for  the  attainment  of  it;  for  no  man  ought  to  be 

blamed  for  seeking  his  own  good  and  happiness. 

* 

Cast  ^^  aw^ay  from  thee  opinion  and  thou  art  safe. 
And  what  is  it  that  hinders  thee  from  casting  it  away? 
When  thou  art  grieved  at  anything  hast  thou  forgotten 
that  all  things  happen  according  to  the  nature  of  the 
universe,  and  that  him  only  it  concerns  who  is  in  fault, 
and  moreover  that  what  is  now  done  is  that  which  from 
ever  hath  been  done  in  the  world  and  will  ever  be  done, 
and  is  now  done  everywhere  ?  Hast  thou  forgotten  how 
closely  all  men  are  allied  one  to  another  by  a  kindred, 
not  of  blood  nor  of  seed,  but  of  the  same  mind?  Thou 
hast  also  forgotten  that  every  man's  mind  partakes  of 
the  Deity  and  issueth  from  thence,  and  that  no  man  can 
properly  call  anything  his  own,  no,  not  his  son,  nor  his 
body,  nor  his  life,  for  they  all  proceed  from  that  One 
who  is  the  giver  of  all  things:  that  all  things  are  but 
opinion ;  that  no  man  lives  properly  but  that  very  instant 
of  time  which  is  now  present,  and  therefore  that  no  man, 
whensoever  he  dieth,  can  properly  be  said  to  lose  any 
more  than  an  instant  of  time. 

*  * 

How  1^  easy  a  thing  it  is  for  a  man  to  put  off  from 

him  all  turbulent  adventitious  imaginations,  and  pres- 
ently to  be  in  perfect  rest  and  tranquillity! 

"  Marcus  Aurelius,  Meditations,  XII.  19. 
"  lb.,  V.  2. 


MARCUS  AURELIUS  339 

Think  thyself  fit  and  worthy  to  speak  or  to  do  any-, 
thing  that  is  according  to  nature,  and  let  not  the  re- 
proach or  report  of  some  that  may  ensue  upon  it  ever 
deter  thee.  If  it  be  right  and  honest  to  be  spoken  or 
done,  undervalue  not  thyseK  so  much  as  to  be  discouraged 
from  it.  As  for  them,  they  have  their  own  rational 
overruling  part  and  their  own  proper  inclination,  which 
thou  must  not  stand  and  look  about  to  take  notice  of,  but 
go  on  straight  whither  both  thine  own  particular  and  the 
common  nature  do  lead  thee;  and  the  way  of  both  these  is 
but  one. 


XXII 
PLOTINUS  t 

[205-270  A.D.] 

THE    SOUL 

Ake  1  we  ail  immortal?  Or  do  we  utterly  perish? 
Or,  a  third  alternative,  does  part  of  us  pass  way  into 
dissolution  and  destruction  while  part — the  real  self- 
is  everlasting?  These  are  questions  which  we  might 
naturally  investigate  and  learn  to  answer,  after  the 
following  fashion. 

Man,  we  might  say,  is  not  something  simple,  but  has 
within  him  a  soul.  He  has  also  a  body  attached  to  him, 
it  may  be  as  an  instrument,  it  may  be  in  some  other 
capacity.  Let  us  then  distinguish  the  soul  from  the 
body  and  have  a  look  at  the  nature  and  character  of  them 
both.  Evidently  a  body  which  is  composite  cannot  in 
reason  be  lasting.  Moreover  our  senses  perceive  its 
dissolution  and  disintegration  and  liability  to  corruption 
of  every  sort,  the  reversion  of  its  ingredients  each  to 
its  proper  nature,  the  destruction  of  one  part  by  another, 
and  their  change  and  corruption  into  things  other  than 

iPlotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §1,  456  (C.  p.  843;  V.  II.  p.  120). 
The  chapters  referred  to  are  those  of  the  Creuzer  text.  Where 
it  seemed  advisable  to  do  so  page  references  to  this  text — abbre- 
viated as  C. — are  added,  and  parallel  references  to  the  Volkmann 
text  in  the  Teubner  series — abbreviated  as  V. 

t  Dr.  B.  A.  G.  Fuller  has  made  the  selection  and  the  translation 
f  the  i>as8ages  from  Plotinus. 

340 


PLOTINUS  341 

they  were.  This  is  particularly  noticeable  whenever 
the  soul,  which  puts  them  in  accord,  is  not  present  in  a 
mass  of  matter.  Then,  too,  though  each  thing  in  the 
process  of  generation  becomes  an  individual,  it  is  not 
an  unit,  since  it  can  be  resolved  into  form  and  matter. 
Hence  even  the  simple  bodies  are  compound.  Again 
it  is  a  fact  that  since  whatever  is  corporeal  has  magnitude 
and  can  be  divided  and  broken  up  into  bits,  it  must  for 
this  reason  also  be  subject  to  corruption. 

It  follows  that  if  the  body  be  a  part  of  us,  the  whole  of 
us  is  not  immortal.  And  if  it  be  an  instrument,  it  must 
be  given  to  us  for  a  certain  time  as  such.  But  the 
dominant  part  and  the  essential  man  himself  would  bear 
the  same  relation  to  the  body  as  form  to  matter,  or  as 
a  man  to  the  instrument  he  uses. 

In  either  case,  however,  the  soul  is  the  man's  real  self. 

*  * 

What  2  now  is  the  nature  of  the  soul  ?  If  the  soul  be 
corporeal,  it  can  be  wholly  disintegrated,  seeing  that 
everything  corporeal  is,  as  we  have  said,  composite. 
If  it  be  not  corporeal,  but  of  another  nature,  we  must 
investigate  this,  too,  either  after  the  old  or  after  some 
other  fashion.  In  the  first  place  [if  the  soul  be  corporeal] 
we  must  inquire  into  what  this  body  which  they  call  the 
soul  can  be  resolved.  For  since  life  is  necessarily  at 
hand  in  the  soul,  this  body — which  the  soul  is — must, 
if  it  consist  of  two  or  more  bodies,  have  life  innate  in 
both  or  each,  or  one  only,  or  none  of  these  bodies.  If 
life  belongs  to  one  of  them  this  body  would  be  the  soul. 
But  what  kind  of  body  would  that  be  which  was 
naturally  animate?  For  fire,  and  water,  and  air,  and 
earth  are  naturally  inanimate,  and  whenever  any  one  of 

2  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §  2. 


342       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

them  has  soul  present  in  it  it  has  possessed  itseK  of  life 
as  of  something  imported  from  without.  But,  besides 
fire,  air,  water,  and  earth  there  are  no  bodies.  And 
even  such  as  believe  that  there  are  elements  different 
from  those  enumerated,  call  them  bodies,  not  souls,  and 
ascribe  no  life  to  them. 

If,  however,  no  one  of  the  bodies  [which  make  up  the 
soul]  is  possessed  of  life,  it  is  absurd  to  think  that  their 
conjunction  has  created  life.  And  if  each  of  them  is 
animate,  then  one  of  them  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose. 
It  is  pecuHarly  impossible,  however,  that  a  combina- 
tion of  bodies  should  produce  life  or  that  intellect  should 
be  produced  by  that  which  is  without  it.  Moreover, 
it  is  not  maintained  that  life  is  produced  by  any  random 
commingling.  There  must  be  then  a  principle  which  is 
directive  and  causes  the  mixture.  But  this  would  take 
the  place  of  the  soul.  In  fine,  there  could  be  no  com- 
posite, nor  even  any  simple  body  in  being  were  there  not 
soul  in  the  universe,  if  indeed  it  be  a  seminal  reason 
entering  into  matter  which  makes  a  body,  and  a  seminal 
reason  can  come  from  nowhere  except  from  soul.  .  .  . 

*  * 

For  3  there  could  be  no  body  were  there  no  psychic 
power  existent,  since  the  corporeal  is  in  flux  and  its 
nature  in  motion,  and  would  be  immediately  destroyed 
if  there  were  nothing  but  the  corporeal.  This  would  be 
true  even  if  one  gave  the  name  ''soul"  to  one  of  these 
bodies,  since  this  would  fare  like  the  others,  seeing  that 
they  would  be  of  one  matter.  Or  rather,  there  would 
be  no  generation  at  all,  but  all  things  would  remain  mere 
matter  for  the  lack  of  anything  to  give  them  form. 

'Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §  3,  458  C  (C.  p.  847,  1.  15  et  seq.; 
V.  II.  122,  1.  17  et  seq.). 


I 


PLOTINUS  343 

Perhaps,  too,  there  would  not  be  even  any  matter,  and 
this  world-all  would  be  dissolved,  if  one  trusted  for  its 
existence  to  the  conjunction  of  the  corporeal,  and  gave 
to  this  the  place  of  soul,  at  any  rate,  so  far  as  the  name 
went,  ascribing  it  to  air  and  to  spirits  which  are  most 
dissoluble  and  without  any  unity  of  themselves.  For, 
I  ask  you,  in  view  of  the  divisibility  of  all  corporeal 
things,  will  not  the  man  who  confides  this  universe  to 
any  one  of  them,  thereby  make  it  unintelligent  and 
borne  about  at  random?  What  ordering  principle  is 
there  in  animal  spirits  which  owe  their  order  to  soul,  or 
what  reason  or  what  intelligence?  But  if  soul  exists, 
then  all  these  things  are  ministrant  to  her  constitution 
of  the  world  and  of  the  individual  living  being,  in  that 
one  power  proceeding  from  another  contributes  to  the 
whole.  Were  she,  however,  not  present  in  things,  they 
would  have  no  being  at  all,  let  alone  an  orderly  ex- 
istence. ...  * 

That  ^  if  the  soul  were  corporeal  there  would  be  no 
sensation  nor  thought  nor  undertaking  nor  virtue  nor 
anything  beautiful  is  clear  also  from  the  following  con- 
siderations :  If  one  thing  is  to  perceive  another  it  must 
be  one,  and  grasp  everything  in  the  same  operation,  even 
though  the  incoming  perception  be  multiple  and  enter 
through  several  senses,  or  there  be  several  qualities  of  one 
object,  or  through  the  oneness  there  appear  a  variety, 
as  in  the  case  of  a  face.  For  one  operation  does  not 
perceive  a  nose,  another  the  eyes,  but  the  same  operation 
perceives  all  things  together.  Moreover,  if  one  sensa- 
tion come  through  the  eyes,  another  through  the  hearing, 

*Plotinu8,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §  6,  461  A  (C.  p.  853,  1.  3  et  seq.; 
V.  II.  126,  1.  11  et  seq.). 


344       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

there  must  be  some  one  thing  to  which  both  come. 
Otherwise,  if  they  did  not  come  both  together  to  thisf 
same  something,  how  could  one  say  that  the  perceptions 
were  different?  This  something  must  be  hke  a  centre  to 
which  the  sensations  from  all  sides  penetrate  like  lines 
converging  from  the  circumference  of  a  circle.  Such 
then  is  the  apperceptive  faculty — a  real  unity.  .  .  . 

*  * 
We  ^  may  also  see  the  same  thing  from  the  case  of  pain 
and  the  sensation  of  pain.  Whenever  a  man  says  that 
his  finger  hurts,  the  pain  naturally  has  to  do  with  his 
finger,  but  the  sensation  of  pain,  it  will  of  course  be 
agreed,  has  to  do  with  the  ruling  faculty.  Although  the 
part  hurt  is  different  from  it,  the  ruling  faculty  per- 
ceives the  animal  spirits  and  the  whole  soul  suffers  the 
same  pain.  Now  how  does  this  happen?  By  trans- 
mission, it  is  said,  in  that  first  the  animal  spirits  which 
are  connected  with  the  finger  suffer  and  hand  on  their 
suffering  to  the  next  part  in  turn,  and  this  to  still 
another,  and  so  on  till  it  reaches  the  ruling  faculty. 
Necessarily  then,  if  the  part  hurt  first  feels,  the  sensa- 
tion of  the  second  part  will  be  another  sensation — in  case, 
I  mean,  sensation  is  by  transmission, — and  that  of  the 
third  still  another.  In  this  way  there  will  be  many,  in- 
deed innumerable  sensations  of  the  one  pain  generated, 
and  finally  the  ruling  faculty  will  feel  them  all,  and  its 
own  pain  besides.  The  truth  is  that  on  this  theory  each 
one  of  these  parts  will  not  feel  the  pain  in  the  finger,  but 
the  part  next  the  finger  will  feel  that  the  palm  of  the 
hand  hurts,  and  the  third  that  there  is  a  pain  somewhere 
else  higher  up. 

» Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §  7,  462  A  (C.  p.  865,  I.  9  et  seq. ; 
V.  II.  128, 1.  3  et  seq.). 


PLOTINUS  345 

So  there  will  be  many  pains,  and  the  ruling  faculty 
will  not  perceive  the  pain  in  the  finger  but  the  pain  in 
itself.  Only  of  this  last  will  it  be  conscious,  and  will 
pay  no  heed  to  the  other  pains,  and  will  not  understand 
that  it  is  the  finger  which  is  hurting.  A  sensation  then 
of  pain  in  the  finger  cannot  be  generated  by  transmission, 
nor  can  any  one  part  of  the  body — which  is  an  extended 
mass — be  aware  of  another's  suffering,  since  in  every 
extended  object  when  one  part  is  in  one  place  the  others 
are  in  other  places.  Hence,  I  say  it  is  necessary  to  con- 
ceive the  perceiving  faculty  as  throughout  identical 
with  itself.  But  such  a  conception  is  not  appropriate 
to  body  but  to  some  other  form  of  being. 

*  * 

That  ^  thought  also  is  impossible  if  the  soul  be  a  body 
of  any  sort  is  to  be  proved  as  follows.  If  sensation  be 
the  soul's  perceiving  sensible  objects  with  the  help  of 
the  body,  then  thought  also  cannot  be  comprehension 
through  the  instrumentality  of  the  body,  since  in  that 
case  it  will  be  the  same  as  sensation.  If  then  thought 
be  comprehension  of  objects  without  the  aid  of  the  body, 
surely  that  which  thinks  has  even  a  stronger  claim 
to  not  being  body.  Again,  if  sensation  be  of  sensible 
objects,  thought  is  of  intelligible  objects.  If  our  oppo- 
nents will  not  grant  this,  they  must  at  least  grant  that 
there  are  thoughts  of  some  intelligible  objects,  and  ap- 
prehensions of  things  which  have  no  extension.  But 
then  how  can  that  which  has  extension  think  that  which 
has  not,  and  with  its  divisible  nature  think  the  indi- 
visible? Do  you  say,  with  some  indivisible  portion  of 
itself?  In  that  case,  however,  that  which  thinks  will 
not  be  a  body.     For  under  these  circumstances  there 

« Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §  8. 


346       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

will  be  no  need  of  the  whole  for  the  contact  of  thought 
with  its  object,  but  a  single  part  will  suffice. 

Moreover,  if  it  be  conceded  that  the  most  abstract 
thoughts  are  of  things  in  every  respect  pure  of  the 
corporeal,  what  thinks,  also,  by  virtue  of  being  or  be- 
coming pure  of  the  corporeal,  attains  knowledge  of  them. 
And  if  it  be  asserted  that  thoughts  are  of  forms  inhering 
in  matter,  then  the  thoughts  of  the  forms  are  attained 
only  by  abstracting  the  bodies,  and  it  is  intellect  which 
does  the  abstracting.  There  is,  for  instance,  no  residuum 
of  flesh  or  of  matter  of  any  sort  in  the  abstractions  of  a 
circle,  a  triangle,  a  line,  or  a  point.  The  soul  then,  when 
at  such  work,  must  of  necessity  abstract  herself  from 
the  body.  It  follows  that  she  herself  cannot  be  body. 
I  think  also  that  the  beautiful  and  the  right  are  not 
extended  things,  and  that  hence  the  thought  of  them 
cannot  be  extended.  So,  when  these  things  meet  her, 
she  will  receive  them  with  the  indivisible  part  of  herself, 
and  they  will  lie  in  her  indivisible  seK.  .  .  . 

Again  there  is  the  question  whether  the  soul  grasp  the 
maxims  of  virtue  and  other  intelligible  objects  as  things 
eternal,  or  virtue  be  generated  and  must  needs  perish 
again.  But  what  destroys  it,  and  whence  does  it  spring? 
For  this  again  would  abide.  Virtue  then  must  belong 
to  the  eternal  and  abiding,  as  do  geometrical  entities. 
But  if  it  belongs  to  the  eternal  and  the  abiding,  it  is  not 
corporeal.  And  that  in  which  it  resides  must  also  be 
incorporeal,  and  cannot  be  a  body.  For  all  corporeal 
nature  abides  not,  but  is  in  flux.  .  .  .  But  if  the  soul 
be  neither  body  nor  any  property  of  body  but  rather 
active  and  creative,  and  possessed  of  much,  both  in  and 
of  herself,  she  must  be  a  separate  essence  from  bodies. 
What  kind  of  an  essence  then  ?    Clearly  she  must  be  that 


I 


PLOTINUS  347 

which  we  call  real  essence.  For  the  corporeal  might  all 
be  called  a  ^process,  but  not  an  essence,  seeing  that  it  is 
in  a  process  of  generation  and  corruption  and  never  for  a 
moment  really  is  anything,  but  by  its  participation  in 
being  is  kept  in  existence  to  the  degree  that  it  does  par- 
ticipate in  it.  .  .  .  * 

There  ^  is  then  another  nature  that  of  itseK  possesses 
all  real  being  such  as  is  neither  generated  nor  destroyed. 
For  all  things  else  would  pass  away  and  never  again  come 
into  existence,  if  this  were  destroyed,  since  this  it  is 
which  preserves  them  and  this  universe,  keeping  them 
in  existence  and  in  order  through  the  mediation  of 
soul.  ...  * 

That  ^  the  soul  is  akin  to  the  diviner  and  eternal 
nature  is  made  clear  by  the  facts  that  she  has  been  proven 
to  be  incorporeal,  has  neither  form  nor  color,  and  is 
intangible.  But  there  are  other  proofs  as  well.  And 
since  we  are  agreed  that  everything  divine  and  possessed 
of  real  being  enjoys  a  good  and  rational  life,  our  next 
task  is  to  start  with  our  own  soul  and  inquire  what  her 
nature  is.  Let  us  take  then  a  soul — not  one  sunk  in  the 
body  which  has  laid  hold  of  irrational  desires  and 
emotions  and  received  into  herself  other  passions,  but 
one  which  has  sloughed  these  all  off  and  has  as  little 
commerce  as  possible  with  the  body.  Such  an  one 
shows  clearly  that  evil  is  a  foreign  accretion  on  the 
soul,  and  that  in  the  purified  soul  everything  that  is 
best,  wisdom  and  every  other  virtue,  inheres  and  is 
native. 

TPlotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  463  A  (C.  p.  863,  1.  13;  V.  II.  136,  L 
\2  et  seq..). 

*1D.,  §  14,  464  A  (C.  p.  865,  1.  I;  V.  II.  137,  1,  13  et  seq.). 


348       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

.  .  .  But  ^  in  investigating  the  nature  of  anything  one 
must  regard  it  in  its  purity,  since  any  accretion  always 
stands  in  the  way  of  knowing  that  to  which  it  is  super- 
added. Abstract  then  in  investigating,  or  rather  let 
him  who  abstracts  look  at  himself,  and  he  will  be  per- 
suaded that  he  is  immortal  when  he  sees  himseK  on  the 
intelligible  and  pure  plane.  For  he  will  see  his  intellect 
regarding  not  any  sensible  or  mortal  thing,  but  with  its 
eternal  seK  thinking  the  eternal,  and  all  things  which 
exist  in  the  intelligible  world.  Nay,  he  will  see  his  in- 
tellect itself  become  intelligible  and  luminous,  resplendent 
with  the  truths  proceeding  from  the  good  which  illumi- 
nates intelligible  objects  with  truth.  .  .  . 


Again  ^^  what  sane  man  could  raise  a  doubt  as  to  the 
immortality  of  such  a  nature,  possessed  as  it  is  of  a 
self -originated  life  that  cannot  be  destroyed?  .  .  .  For 
either  its  essence  is  life  or  else  Hfe  is  something  super- 
added to  matter.  In  the  first  case,  this  essence  will  be 
either  self -animated — which  is  just  what  we  are  looking 
for  and  we  agree  is  immortal — or  may  be  analyzed  as  a 
compound  and  the  process  repeated  till  an  imperishable 
self-moved  element  be  reached  which  cannot  be  liable 
to  death.  In  the  second  case,  if  our  opponents  say 
that  life  be  a  property  superadded  to  matter,  they 
will  be  forced  to  confess  that  the  source  of  this  prop- 
erty of  life  in  matter  must  itself  be  immortal,  since 
it  cannot  be  subject  to  the  opposite  of  what  it  imparts. 
There  is  then  one  nature  whose  characteristic  activity 
is  life. 

•  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  464  E. 

10  lb.,  §  15,  465  (C.  p.  867, 1.  11  et  seq.;  V.  II.  139, 1.  10  et  seq.). 


I 


PLOTINUS  349 

Again,  1^  if  it  be  said  that  all  soul  is  corruptible,  then 
all  things  would  have  perished  long  ago.  But  if  it  be 
said  that  some  soul  perishes,  other  not,  as  for  instance 
that  the  world-soul  is  immortal  but  our  souls  mortal,  the 
reason  for  this  distinction  must  be  given.  For  both  are 
principles  of  motion,  both  are  self-animated,  and  both 
grasp  the  same  objects  with  the  same  faculty,  thinking 
both  heavenly  objects  and  those  which  transcend  the 
heavens,  and  both  seek  all  essential  being  and  mount  up 
to  the  first  principle  of  all  things.  Also  her  ability  to 
classify  each  thing  of  herself  because  of  the  notion  innate 
within  her — an  ability  produced  by  reminiscence  of  the 
intelligible — gives  our  soul  an  existence  prior  to  the 
body,  and  since  she  is  in  enjoyment  of  eternal  principles, 
shows  that  she  herself  is  also  eternal. 

Finally,  everything  dissoluble  has  been  produced  by 
combination,  and  is  dissolved  after  the  same  fashion  in 
which  it  was  combined.  But  the  soul  is  single  and  simple, 
a  nature  whose  characteristic  activity  consists  in  living. 
She  cannot  then  be  destroyed  by  dissolution.  But,  do 
you  say,  she  might  be  destroyed  by  being  divided  and 
broken  up  ?  However,  she  has  no  mass  or  quantity,  as 
has  been  shown.  Or,  do  you  say,  by  a  process  of  altera- 
tion she  might  pass  into  corruption?  Alteration,  however, 
in  destroying,  though  it  takes  away  the  form  leaves  the 
matter.  It  is  a  composite  being  then,  which  is  liable  to  it. 
But  if  the  soul  cannot  be  destroyed  after  any  of  these 
fashions,  she  must  necessarily  be  immortal.  .  .  . 

*** 

We  ^2  speak  of  the  soul  of  each  individual  as  one, 
because  she  is  present  in  her  entirety  throughout  the 

11  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  7,  §  16. 

12  lb.,  IV.  9,  §  1,  477  (C.  p.  888;  V.  II.  153). 


350       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

body,  and  is  really  one  in  that  she  does  not  have  one 
part  here,  another  there.  In  sensitive  beings,  too,  the 
same  is  true  of  the  sensitive  soul,  and  in  plants  the 
whole  soul  is  present  throughout  in  every  part.  Now 
are  my  soul  and  your  soul  one,  and  all  souls  one  in  the 
same  way  ?  And  in  the  universe  is  one  soul  present  in  all 
things,  not  divided  as  a  thing  which  has  mass  is  divided, 
but  everywhere  the  same  ?  For  why  should  this  soul  of 
mine  be  one  but  the  soul  in  the  universe  not  one  ?  There 
is  no  question  there  either  of  mass  or  body.  Moreover,  if 
your  soul  and  mine  proceed  from  the  world-soul,  and  it  is 
one,  then  ours  should  be  one  also .  And  if  the  world-soul  and 
my  soul  are  derived  from  one  soul,  then  again  they  should 
be  one.     What  sort  of  a  soul  would  this  one  then  be  ? 

First,  however,  we  must  decide  whether  it  be  indeed 
correct  to  call  all  souls  one,  in  the  sense  that  the  soul  of  a 
single  individual  is  one.  Now  it  involves  a  real  absurdity 
if  my  soul  and  the  soul  of  any  other  person  are  one. 
For  in  that  case  when  I  perceived,  he  too  would  have  to 
perceive,  and  if  I  were  good,  would  have  to  be  good, 
and  if  I  desired,  would  also  have  to  desire.  And  in 
general  we  should  share  the  same  sensations  with  one 
another  and  with  the  universe,  so  that  whenever  I  were 
affected  in  any  wise,  the  universe  would  share  in  my  sen- 
sation. Again,  if  all  souls  be  one,  how  can  the  rational 
be  different  from  the  irrational  soul,  or  the  soul  in  animals 
different  from  that  in  plants?  But  on  the  other  hand  if 
we  do  not  posit  this  unity,  the  universe  will  not  be  one, 
and  no  single  source  of  souls  will  have  been  found. 

*  * 

In  13  the  first  place  then,  if  my  soul  and  the  soul  of 
another  man  be  one,  it  will  not  follow  that  both  are 

'3  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  9,  §  2. 


PLOTINUS  351 

reciprocally  identical.  For  although  the  same  thing  may 
be  present  in  both,  it  will  not  have  the  same  properties 
in  the  two  cases.  Thus  humanity  may  be  present  in  me 
who  am  in  motion,  and  in  you  who  are  not  in  motion. 
In  me  humanity  will  be  moved,  in  you  at  rest,  and  still 
there  is  nothing  absurd  or  paradoxical  in  the  fact  that 
it  is  the  same  humanity  which  is  in  you  and  me.  It  is 
not  necessary,  then,  that  when  I  perceive  something, 
another  man  should  have  exactly  the  same  experience. 
For  that  matter,  too,  given  a  single  body,  one  hand  does 
not  perceive  what  the  other  feels,  but  rather  the  soul 
which  resides  in  the  whole  body.  And  had  you  to  know 
my  feelings  our  bodies  would  have  to  merge  into  one 
another,  and  we  two  become  a  single  individual.  Thus 
knitted  together  both  souls  would  have  identical  per- 
ceptions. 

We  ought  also  to  note  the  many  things  of  which*  the 
whole  is  unconscious,  even  in  the  case  of  one  and  the 
same  body.  This  is  the  more  noticeable  the  bigger  the 
body  is.  For  instance,  there  are  huge  sea-monsters  in 
which  no  perception  whatever  of  anything  experienced 
by  a  part  reaches  the  whole,  because  of  the  comparative 
slightness  of  the  motion  excited.  We  may  conclude  that 
no  clearly  defined  experience  need  be  received  by  the 
whole  organism  when  one  particular  part  is  affected. 
But  that  it  should  be  affected  sympathetically,  though 
there  is  not  necessarily  any  definite  sensation,  is  not 
absurd  and  cannot  be  denied.  It  will  not  be  absurd  then 
that  the  same  thing  should  be  virtuous  in  me,  vicious 
in  you,  seeing  that  it  can  exist  in  one  man  in  a  state  of 
motion,  in  another  at  rest.  For  after  all  we  do  not  call 
the  soul  one  in  a  sense  which  altogether  excludes  plurality. 
Such  imity  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  nature  which  is 


352       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

better  than  soul.  Soul,  on  the  contrary,  we  call  one- 
and-many,  and  say  that  it  participates  in  the  divisible 
corporeal  nature,  and  in  the  indivisible  as  well,  so  that 
again  it  is  one.  And  just  as  in  my  case,  whatever  is 
generated  by  the  ruling  faculty  communicates  something 
to  the  part,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  affection  of  the 
part  does  not  prevail  over  the  whole;  so  everything  which 
the  universe  communicates  to  the  particular  is  quite 
manifest  because  of  our  manifold  sympathetic  relations 
with  the  universe,  whereas  we  do  not  know  for  certain 
whether  our  experiences  are  contributed  to  the  world- 
all  or  not.  ...  * 

The  ^^  question  now  is.  After  what  fashion  is  the  one 
essence  in  the  many  souls?  For  either  the  one  essence 
in  them  all  is  a  sum  total,  or  else  the  many  are  derived 
from  the  whole  and  single  essence  without  disturbing  its 
wholeness  or  unity.  It,  however,  is  one,  and  the  many 
souls  are  related  to  it  as  the  one  unity  which  gives  itself 
to  the  many,  and  at  the  same  time  does  not  give  itself. 
For  it  is  able  to  give  itself  to  all,  and  yet  to  remain  one. 
It  can  penetrate  simultaneously  all  things,  and  not  be 
severed  at  all  from  any  one  of  them.  It  is  one  and  the 
same  thing  in  many. 

There  should  be  no  difficulty  about  believing  this.  A 
science  exists  as  a  whole,  and  is  related  to  its  parts 
in  such  wise  that  its  wholeness  is  not  impaired  by  the 
derivation  of  the  parts  from  it.  A  seed  also  is  a  whole, 
and  the  parts  are  derived  from  it  into  which  it  naturally 
divides  itself,  and  each  of  these  is  a  whole,  and  remains 
a  whole. 

But  the  whole  is  not  diminished — it  is  matter  which 

"  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  9,  §  5,  480  A  (C.  p.  894;  V.  II.  157). 


PLOTINUS  353 

divides  it  up — and  all  the  parts  are  one.  Perhaps,  how- 
ever, it  will  be  said  that  in  the  case  of  a  science  the  part 
is  not  the  whole.  It  is  true,  to  be  sure,  in  this  case,  that 
the  part  which  we  are  using  is  at  hand  and  is  emphasized. 
Still,  the  other  parts  also  follow,  latent  and  potential,  and 
are  all  contained  in  the  part  in  question.  It  is  in  this 
sense  that  one  speaks  of  the  whole  science  and  of  a  part 
of  it.  But  in  the  soul  all  the  parts  coexist  in  their 
actuality.  In  the  case  of  a  science,  to  revert,  each  part 
is  ready  to  which  you  may  wish  to  put  your  hand.  The 
readiness  for  use  lies  in  the  part,  but  it  gets  its  efficacy 
from  its  contiguity  to  the  whole.  One  cannot  regard  it 
as  empty  of  the  other  propositions.  Were  it,  it  would 
not  hold  either  in  practice  or  in  theory,  but  would  be 
mere  child's  prattle.  If  it  holds  theoretically,  it  is  be- 
cause it  contains  all  the  parts  potentially.  A  thinker  in 
thinking,  I  say,  deduces  the  other  parts  by  implication. 
A  geometer  in  his  analysis  makes  clear  how  the  one  part 
or  proposition  contains  all  the  other  propositions  through 
which  the  analysis  has  proceeded,  and  also  all  the  con- 
sequent propositions  which  follow  from  it.  These  things, 
however,  gain  no  credence  because  of  our  weakness  and 
because  they  are  obscured  by  the  body.  But  in  the 
intelligible  world  each  and  every  thing  is  plain. 

THE  INTELLECrr 

Why  15  now  must  we  use  the  soul  as  a  stepping-stone 
to  something  higher  and  not  posit  her  as  the  first  prin- 
ciple? In  the  first  place  because  intellect  is  different 
from  and  better  than  soul,  and  what  is  better  by  nature 
comes  first.     Intellect  is  better,  because  soul  does  not  as 

"Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  9,  §  4,  557  E  (C.  p.  1030,  1.  16;  V.  II. 
251,  1.  9) 


354       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

some  think  generate  the  intellect  of  her  perfection.  For 
how  can  the  possible  become  actual,  unless  there  be  a 
cause  which  makes  it  actual?  Were  the  process  of 
actualization  a  matter  of  chance,  perhaps  the  possible 
might  not  become  actual.  Hence  we  must  regard  our 
first  principle  as  in  actual  existence,  wanting  nothing, 
and  perfect.  And  tha  imperfect  we  must  regard  as 
coming  later  and  as  perfected  by  what  has  produced  it, 
just  as  parents  bring  to  maturity  offspring  which  they 
generated  in  the  beginning  imperfect.  Soul,  moreover, 
is  matter  in  comparison  with  her  first  cause,  and  then 
is  formed  and  perfected  by  it.  Again  since  soul  is  passi- 
ble, there  must  be  some  impassible  principle — or  else 
all  things  in  time  would  be  destroyed — and  something, 
too,  prior  to  soul.  Finally,  since  soul  is  in  the 
world,  there  must  be  some  principle  outside  the  world, 
and  this,  too,  must  be  prior  to  soul.  For  if  what 
exists  in  the  world  exists  in  the  corporeal  and  ma- 
terial, nothing  there  will  preserve  its  identity.  Hence 
the  idea  of  man  and  all  the  forms  will  be  neither  eternal 
nor  self-identical.  From  these  considerations  as  well 
as  from  many  others,  it  may  be  seen  that  intellect  must 
exist  prior  to  soul.  ...       * 

Although  16  then  the  soul  is  the  kind  of  thing  which  our 
discussion  has  shown  her  to  be,  still  she  is  merely  a  sort 
of  image  of  the  intellect.  In  fact,  just  as  a  thought 
expressed  in  words  is  an  image  of  the  thought  in  the 
soul,  so  she  is  both  the  thought  of  the  intellect  and  the 
entirety  of  its  activity  and  the  life  which  it  sends  forth 
to  constitute  a  new  form  of  being.     An  illustration  of 

»  Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  1,  §  3,  484  B  (C.  p.  900,  1.  4;  V.  II.  164, 
I.  19). 


PLOTINUS  355 

what  I  mean  is  fire  which  has  both  an  inherent  heat, 
and  a  heat  which  it  radiates.  .  .  . 

*** 
It  ^'^  is  the  intellect  then  which  makes  the  soul  ever 

more  divine  by  its  fatherhood  and  companionship.  Nor 
does  anything  separate  them  save  the  fact  that  they  are 
different,  inasmuch  as  the  soul  is  one  lower  in  rank  and 
is  the  receptive  principle,  whereas  the  intellect  is,  as  it 
were,  the  form.  Still  even  the  matter  of  the  intellect  is 
beautiful  since  it  is  intelligible  and  simple.  And  the 
excellence  of  the  intellect  can  be  clearly  estimated  by 
this  superiority  to  soul,  which  is  such  as  we  have  de- 
scribed. * 

We  1^  should  also  see  the  excellence  of  the  intellect,  if 
first  admiring  the  phenomenal  universe  with  an  eye  to  its 
grandeur  and  beauty,  the  orderliness  of  its  eternal  motion, 
its  gods  both  visible  and  invisible,  its  spirits,  and  all 
its  animals  and  plants,  we  should  then  rise  to  its  far 
truer  and  more  real  archetype,  and  should  see  how  all 
things  there  are  intelligible  and  eternal  of  themselves 
and  dwell  in  native  reason  and  live  with  imcorrupted 
intellect  at  their  head,  and  unspeakable  wisdom  and  the 
true  life  of  Chronos  which  is  the  offspring  of  God  and 
the  intellect.  For  the  intellect  comprehends  everything 
that  is  immortal,  every  intellect,  every  god,  every  soul, 
in  its  eternal  peace.  Its  peace,  I  say,  for  why  should  it 
in  its  felicity  seek  change?  And  into  what  could  it 
change,  seeing  that  it  has  all  things  of  its  own  self.  Nor 
wiU  the  intellect  seek  to  develop  itself,  since  it  is  ab- 
solutely  perfect.     Hence    everything    that    shares    its 

"Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  1,  §  3,  484  D  (C.  p.  901,  1.  16;  V.  II. 
165,  1.  3). 

>«Ib.,  §4. 


356       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

existence  is  perfect,  to  the  end  that  it  may  be  perfect  in 
every  respect,  possessed  of  nothing  imperfect  and  noth- 
ing which  is  not  the  object  of  its  thought. 

Its  thought,  however,  is  not  a  search  but  a  possession. 
Its  fehcity,  too,  is  not  acquired  from  without.  Rather 
is  it  eternally  all  things,  and  is  the  true  eternity  of  which 
time  encircling  the  soul  is  an  image — time  which  leaves 
the  old  things  behind  and  lays  hold  of  new.  For,  to 
speak  still  of  time,  now  one  thing  now  another  revolves 
about  the  soul,  now  Socrates,  and  now  a  horse,  and 
always  some  single  thing.  The  intellect,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  all  things.  It  contains  all  things  in  itself  at 
rest  within  itself.  Only  the  present  exists  for  it,  and  is 
present  eternally,  and  for  it  there  is  nothing  future,  since 
the  future  is  already  present  to  it,  and  nothing  past. 
Nothing,  I  say,  is  past,  but  all  realities  have  remained 
at  rest  there  from  eternity,  as  though  content  with  them- 
selves as  they  are.  Each  of  them  is  intellect  and  real 
existence,  and  the  sum  of  them  is  all  intellect  and  all  real 
existence. 

The  intellect  in  the  act  of  thought  produces  existence, 
and  existence  by  being  thought  gives  thought  and 
existence  to  the  intellect.  Of  both  existence  and 
thought,  however,  there  is  yet  another  cause.  For  they 
exist  simultaneously  and  never  desert  one  another. 
But  though  two,  they  together  constitute  that  unity 
which  is  at  once  intellect  and  existence,  thinking  and 
the  object  thought.  Intellect  this  imity  is  qua  thinking, 
existence  qua  the  object  thought,  for  thinking  could 
not  arise  were  there  not  identity  and  difference.  The 
first  principles  then  are  intellect,  existence,  difference, 
identity.  The  categories  of  motion  and  rest,  however, 
must  also  be  included,  motion  if  there  is  to  be  thinking. 


PLOTINUS  357 

rest  for  the  sake  of  identity.  Difference  must  exist 
that  there  may  be  thinking  and  an  object  of  thought. 
Take  away  the  category  of  difference,  and  the  unity 
which  arises  from  thinking  and  the  object  of  thought 
will  be  given  its  quietus.  The  ideas  must  also  differ 
from  one  another,  and  yet  be  the  same  in  that  each  is  self- 
identical  and  all  have  a  common  element.  Their  differ- 
ence is  otherness.  These  principles  by  virtue  of  their 
plurality  generate  number  and  quantity.  Quality  is 
generated  by  the  fact  that  each  one  of  these  principles 
from  which  all  else  proceeds  has  its  peculiar  and  proper 
character.  ...  * 

It  1^  is  necessary  to  understand  then  by  intellect,  if 
we  are  to  attach  any  true  significance  to  the  name,  not 
the  potential  intellect,  or  the  intellectual  knowledge 
developed  out  of  ignorance.  Did  we,  we  should  have 
to  seek  for  yet  another  intellect  prior  to  this.  By 
intellect  we  are  to  understand  that  which  is  intellect 
in  actu,  and  eternally.  But  if  its  thought  be  not  im- 
ported from  without,  when  it  thinks  anything  it  must 
itself  be  the  occasion  of  its  thought,  and  when  it  is 
possessed  of  any  object  be  the  occasion  of  that  possession. 
But  if  it  be  the  occasion  and  source  of  its  thought,  it 
will  itself  be  the  object  of  its  thought.  For  were  its 
essence  one  thing,  and  the  object  of  its  thought  another, 
its  essence  w^ould  not  be  an  intelligible  object,  and 
would  exist  potentially,  not  actually.  The  one  then  is 
not  separable  from  the  other,  though  it  is  our  custom 
drawn  from  our  own  experience  to  think  of  them  as 
separate. 

I'Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  9,  §  5,  558  C  (C.  p.  1031,  1.  14;  V.  II. 
251,  1.  32). 


358       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

What  then  is  the  object  of  the  activity  and  thought 
of  the  intellect  Hke,  that  we  should  regard  the  intellect  as 
itself  the  object  of  its  thought?  Clearly  the  intellect, 
being  real  existence,  must  think  and  support  the  world 
of  real  existences  (the  ideas).  It  is  then  the  real  ex- 
istences. It  must  think  of  these  as  existing  either  else- 
where than  in  itself,  or  in  itseK  as  its  own  nature.  To 
think  them  as  elsewhere  than  in  itself  is  impossible. 
For  where  could  they  exist?  It  thinks  them  as  con- 
stituting its  own  nature  and  existing  in  itself. 

We  come  to  this  conclusion  because  the  seat  of  the 
form  is  not  the  sensible  object  as  some  think.  For  in 
no  case  is  the  primary  and  fundamental  the  phenomenal. 
The  form  in  sensible  objects  imposed  upon  matter  is  an 
image  of  real  existence,  and  every  form  in  objects  comes 
from  something  without,  refers  thither,  and  is  an  image 
thereof. 

Again,  if  there  must  needs  be  a  maker  of  this  universe, 
he  will  not  think  of  what  does  not  as  yet  exist,  in  order 
to  create  it.  The  forms  of  things  then  must  exist  prior 
to  the  world,  not  indeed  as  impressions  struck  from 
other  things,  but  as  archetypes  and  originals  and  the 
very  essence  of  the  intellect.  If,  however,  some  people 
talk  of  seminal  reasons  as  sufficient,  evidently  they  must 
be  talking  of  the  eternal  reasons.  But  if  the  reasons  are 
eternal  and  impassible,  they  must  exist  in  an  intellect, 
and  in  an  intellect  such  that  it  is  prior  to  conditioned 
existence,  nature,  and  soul,  seeing  that  these  have  a 
potential  existence. 

The  intellect  then  is  all  real  existences  thought  as  not 
external  to  itself.  They  are  neither  prior  nor  subsequent 
to  it,  but  it  is,  as  it  were,  the  primal  lawgiver,  or  rather 
the  law  itself  of  existence.     The  saying  then  is  correct 


PLOTINUS  359 

that  thinking  and  existing  are  one  and  the  same  thing, 
and  that  the  knowledge  of  immaterial  entities  is  the  same 
as  the  things  themselves — also  the  saying  ^'I  sought  my- 
self" [as]  one  of  the  real  existences;  and  the  doctrine  of 
reminiscence  is  true  too.  For  no  real  existence  is  outside 
the  intellect,  or  in  space.  Rather  do  they  exist  eternally 
in  themselves,  subject  neither  to  change  nor  destruction, 
and  for  this  reason  are  real  existences.  On  the  other 
hand  what  is  generated  and  destroyed  enjoys  existence 
as  something  superadded.  Not  they,  then,  but  what  is 
superadded,  is  real  existence.  Phenomena  exist  as  defin- 
able objects  through  participation,  in  that  their  sub- 
stratum gets  its  form  from  without.  Thus  bronze  re- 
ceives its  form  from  the  art  of  casting  statues,  and 
wood  from  that  of  carpentry,  through  the  entrance  into 
them  of  images  of  the  arts  in  question.  At  the  same 
time  the  arts  themselves  remain  outside  of  matter  in 
their  self-identity,  and  contain  the  true  statue  and  the 
true  bed.  This  is  also  true  of  corporeal  things.  The 
difference  between  images  and  real  existences  is  shown 
likewise  by  this  universe  which  participates  in  images. 
For  in  the  intelligible  world  real  existences  are  im- 
mutable (whereas  the  things  of  this  world  are  mutable), 
and  being  without  extension  reside  in  themselves  without 
need  of  space,  and  have  an  intellectual  and  self-sufficient 
kind  of  existence.  But  the  nature  of  corporeal  things 
wants  preservation  by  something  outside  itself,  while  the 
intellect,  which  with  its  wonderful  nature  supports  what 
naturally  tends  to  fall,  itself  seeks  no  support. 

We  20  grant  then  that  the  intellect  is  real  existence 
and  contains  all  the  real  existences  in  itself,  not  after  a 

20  Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  9,  §  6. 


360       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

spatial  fashion,  but  as  though  they  were  its  own  self, 
and  it  were  one  with  them.  All  things  exist  together 
there,  and  nevertheless  are  distinguished  from  one  an- 
other. For  the  soul  also  is  possessed  of  many  notions 
at  the  same  time,  without  confusing  them.  Each  does 
its  proper  work  at  the  proper  time  without  involving  the 
others.  So,  too,  each  thought  has  a  pure  activity  drawn 
from  the  thoughts  which  He  within  it.  After  this  fashion, 
and  to  a  far  greater  extent,  the  intelligible  universe  is  all 
things  together  and  yet  not  together  inasmuch  as  each 
real  existence  is  an  individual  and  peculiar  power.  But 
the  whole  intellect  includes  them  as  a  genus  contains  its 
species,  or  as  a  whole  its  parts.  .  .  . 

*** 
Whatever  21  appears  in  the  phenomenal  world  as 
form  is  contained  in  the  intelligible  world,  but  what  does 
not  so  appear  has  no  place  there.  Hence  there  is  nothing 
contrary  to  nature  there,  just  as  there  is  nothing  con- 
trary to  art  in  the  arts,  nor  for  that  matter  lameness  in 
the  seed,  seeing  that  lameness  arises  during  growth  from 
the  failure  of  the  seminal  reason  to  overcome  matter,  and 
is  a  chance  mutilation  of  form.  In  the  intelligible  world 
also  are  all  harmonious  quaUties  and  quantities,  numbers 
and  magnitudes,  conditions,  actions  and  natural  proper- 
ties, motions  and  rests,  both  in  whole  and  in  part.  In 
place  of  time  there  is  eternity,  and  space  there  is  repre- 
sented by  logical  impUcation.  ...  22  Are  then  only 
phenomena  represented  in  the  intelligible  world,  or  are 
still  more  things  ?  First  we  must  inquire  about  artificial 
objects.  .  .  . 

2»  Plotinus,    Enneads,  V.  9,  §  10,  562  (C.  p.  1038,  1.  10  et  seq.  ; 
V.  II.  256,  1.  21). 
22  lb.,  562  E. 


PLOTINUS  361 

As  23  regards  then  art  and  artificial  objects.  Such  arts 
as  are  imitative  Hke  painting  and  sculpture,  dancing  and 
gesticulation,  which  take  their  rise  in  the  phenomenal 
world,  and  make  use  of  a  sensible  model  and  imitate 
forms  and  motions,  and  repeat  the  symmetries  which 
they  behold,  could  not  properly  be  referred  to  the 
intelligible  world  except  as  included  in  the  idea  of  man. 
But  if  from  the  symmetry  in  animals  we  be  led  to  reflect 
upon  some  condition  of  living  beings  in  general,  our 
reflection  would  be  part  of  the  power  of  considering  the 
intelligible  world,  and  beholding  the  symmetry  of  all 
things  therein.  Every  sort  of  music,  too,  which  is 
occupied  with  the  concepts  of  harmony  and  rhythm, 
would  be  in  the  same  class  as  an  art  occupied  with  in- 
telligible rhythm.  Also  such  arts  as  fashion  sensible 
objects  like  architecture  and  carpentry  get  their  prin- 
ciples and  some  of  their  skill  from  the  intelligible  world. 
But  inasmuch  as  they  have  mixed  their  principles  up 
with  the  phenomenal,  they  do  not  reside  wholly  in  the 
intelligible,  but  rather  in  man.  Agriculture,  however, 
which  deals  with  sensible  things  Hke  plants  does  not  come 
from  the  intelligible,  nor  medicine  which  looks  to  earthly 
health,  and  busies  itself  with  keeping  people  strong  and 
in  good  condition.  For  in  the  intelligible  world  there  is 
another  kind  of  strength  and  health  by  virtue  of  w^hich  all 
living  things  are  not  subject  to  disturbance  and  are  self- 
sufficient.  Rhetoric  and  generalship,  political  economy 
and  statesmanship,  if  they  join  beauty  to  their  deeds 
and  have  the  vision  of  it,  get  a  portion  of  their  wis- 
dom from  the  wisdom  on  high.  Geometry  which  deals 
with  intelligible  entities  must  be  placed  there,  and 
also    the  highest  wisdom  which  is  occupied  with  real 

23  Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  9,  §  11,  563  A. 


362       SOURCE   BOOK   IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

existence.     So  much  must  suffice  for  the  arts  and  arti- 
ficial objects.  * 

Are  24  there  then  also  ideas  of  particular  objects? 
Let  us  see.  If  I  and  every  man  can  trace  ourselves  back 
to  the  intelligible  world,  then  each  man  has  his  separate 
origin  there.  And  if  Socrates  and  the  soul  of  Socrates 
are  eternal,  there  will  exist  in  the  intelligible  world  a 
Socrates  in  himself  as  it  is  called,  in  so  far  as  the  souls 
of  individuals  are  there.  But  if  what  was  formerly 
Socrates  becomes  at  another  time  another  individual  like 
Pythagoras  or  some  one  else,  then  the  particular  idea 
of  Socrates  no  longer  exists  in  the  intelligible  world.  Still 
if  the  soul  of  the  individual  contain  the  seminal  reasons 
of  all  those  through  whom  it  passes,  all  will  be  represented 
in  the  intelligible  world.  For  we  say  also  that  each  soul 
possesses  all  the  seminal  reasons  that  are  in  the  world. 
If  now  the  world  contains  the  seminal  reasons  not  only 
of  man,  but  of  particular  animals,  the  soul  will  possess 
them  too.  There  will  then  be  an  infinite  number  of 
seminal  reasons,  unless  indeed  they  be  periodically 
repeated  in  world-cycles,  and  in  this  way  a  limit  set  to 
their  infinity,  as  often  as  they  are  reexemplified. 

However,  if  generally  speaking  there  are  more  partic- 
ulars produced  than  there  are  patterns,  why  need  there 
be  seminal  reasons  and  patterns  for  everything  produced 
within  a  single  world-cycle?  One  archetypal  man  is 
enough  for  many  men,  just  as  a  definite  number  of  souls 
produce  [in  their  reincarnations]  an  indefinite  number  of 
human  beings.  Still,  different  things  have  not  the  same 
seminal  reason,  nor  is  a  single  man  sufficient  as  a  pattern 
for  men  who  differ  from  one  another  not  only  in  point 

2«Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  7,  1.  539  A  (C.  p.  995;  V.  II.  228). 


PLOTINUS  363 

of  matter,  but  in  countless  specific  points.  For  such 
men  are  not  related  as  the  pictures  of  Socrates  are 
related  to  the  original,  but  their  differences  have  to  be 
regarded  as  due  to  different  reasons  or  ideas.  A  world- 
cycle,  however,  in  its  entirety  contains  all  the  seminal 
reasons.  And  then  [in  the  next  world-cycle]  the  same 
world  is  repeated  after  the  same  ideas.  Infinity  in  the 
intelligible  world  is  not  to  be  feared.  For  its  infinity 
is  all  contained  in  the  indivisible,  and  proceeds  from  it, 
as  it  were,  when  the  intelligible  world  exercises  its  proper 
activity.  .  .  . 

THE    ONE 

Everything  25  which  exists,  both  primary  existences 
and  whatsoever  is  in  any  way  spoken  of  as  being,  exists 
by  virtue  of  its  unity.  For  what  would  a  thing  be  were 
it  not  one  thing  ?  Take  away  its  unity  and  it  is  no  longer 
what  we  define  it  to  be.  There  is  for  instance  no  army 
except  it  be  a  unity,  and  no  chorus  or  flock  which  is  not 
one.  Nor  is  there  any  house  or  ship  which  has  not  unity, 
since  the  house  is  a  single  thing,  and  likewise  the  ship. 
If  this  unity  be  lost,  the  house  is  no  longer  a  house  nor 
the  ship  a  ship.  Compound  and  extended  bodies  then 
could  not  exist,  unless  unity  were  present  in  them.  And 
if  cut  up,  so  far  as  they  lose  their  unity  they  change  their 
existence.  So  too,  the  bodies  of  plants  and  animals 
which  are  each  a  unit,  if  in  being  broken  up  they  escape 
from  unity  into  plurality,  destroy  the  essence  which  they 
had  and  are  no  longer  what  they  were,  but  become 
something  else,  and  this  indeed  only  in  so  far  as  they 
are  still  units.  Health  also  exists  when  the  body  is 
organized  as  a  unit,  and  beauty  when  the  nature 
of  the  one  holds  the  parts  together,  and  virtue  in  the 

"Plotinus,  Enneads,  VI.  9,  §  1,  757  A  (C.  p.  1385;  V.  II.  518). 


364       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

soul  when  she  is  made  a  unit  and  unified  in  a  single 
harmony.  .  .  . 

We  must  now  see  whether  the  unity  and  the  being  of 
the  individual  be  the  same,  and  existence  in  general 
identical  with  the  One.  But  if  the  being  of  each  in- 
dividual is  a  plurality,  and  the  one  cannot  be  many,  then 
they  must  be  different.  Now  man  is  both  an  animal 
and  a  rational  being,  and  has  many  parts  which  in  their 
multiplicity  are  bound  together  in  unity.  Man  then  is 
one  thing,  unity  another.  Man  is  divisible,  unity  in- 
divisible. Also  existence  in  general,  since  it  comprises 
wdthin  itself  all  the  real  existences,  is  multiple  in  nature, 
and  different  from  unity,  and  by  participation  possesses 
and  shares  in  unity.  Real  existence  has  both  life  and 
intellect — since  it  is  no  lifeless  corpse.  Hence  it  is 
multiple.  And  if  the  intellect  be  real  existence,  it  must 
be  multiple,  and  still  more  so,  if  it  comprise  the  ideas. 
For  the  idea  is  not  one  but  is  rather  a  number  of  things — 
each  individual  idea  as  well  as  their  sum  total.  They  are 
one  in  the  same  sense  as  the  universe  is  one.  Generally 
speaking,  too,  unity  is  fundamental  and  primal,  but  the 
intellect,  and  the  ideas,  and  real  existence  are  not  primal. 
Each  idea  is  made  up  of  many  parts,  is  composite,  and 
a  consequent,  inasmuch  as  what  a  thing  is  composed  of  is 
prior  to  it. 

That  intellect  cannot  be  primal  is  also  plain  from  the 
following  considerations:  The  intellect  necessarily  is  in 
thought,  and  since  it  regards  what  is  both  supremely 
good  and  at  the  same  time  not  external  to  itself,  the  object 
of  its  thought  is  prior  to  itself.  For  in  reverting  to  itself 
it  reverts  to  its  origin.  Moreover,  if  it  be  both  the 
thinking  and  the  object  of  thought,  it  is  dual,  not  simple, 
and  is  not  the  One.     But  if  it  regard  another  than  itself, 


PLOTINUS  365 

it  will  regard  what  is  in  every  respect  better  than  and 
prior  to  itseK.  If,  however,  it  regard  itself,  it  regards 
[qiia  thinking]  what  is  better  [qica  object  of  its  thought] 
than  itself,  and  so  is  a  secondary  entity. 

Now  we  must  consider  the  intellect  such  that  it  com- 
munes with  the  good  and  the  first  of  all  things,  and 
regards  it,  and  also  communes  with  itself  and  thinks 
itself,  and  thinks  itself  as  the  whole  world  of  real  ex- 
istences. Its  variety  then  falls  far  short  of  being  unity. 
The  One  cannot  be  all  things,  since  in  that  case  it  would 
be  no  longer  One,  nor  can  it  be  intellect  since  it  would 
then  be  all  things  because  the  intellect  is  all  things.  Nor 
can  it  be  existence,  for  existence  is  all  things. 

What  now  is  the  One?  WTiat  is  its  nature?  It  is  no 
wonder  that  we  cannot  easily  say,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
neither  existence  nor  form  is  easily  described.  Yet  our 
knowledge  is  based  upon  forms  and  concepts.  But  the 
more  the  soul  proceeds  into  the  formless,  the  more  she 
becomes  unable  to  comprehend  it,  because  it  is  inde- 
finable and  lacks  the  impress  of  variety.  Hence  she 
wavers  and  begins  to  fear  that  she  has  laid  hold  of  blank 
nothing,  and  tires  at  such  a  height  and  is  glad  to  descend 
frequently  and  to  fall  back  from  everything  till  she  has 
reached  the  phenomenal  world.  There  she  rests  from 
her  labors  as  if  on  firm  ground  once  more.  In  the  same 
way  our  sight  when  wearied  with  tiny  things  gladly  falls 
upon  large  objects.  On  the  other  hand  when  the  soul 
desires  vision  absolutely  of  and  by  itself,  in  this  vision 
which  comes  through  communion  and  union  she  does  not 
believe  that  she  has  attained  the  object  of  her  search 
through  union  with  it,  just  because  the  object  of  her 
thought  is  not  a  different  thing  from  herself. 

We,  however,  who  are  going  to  make  the  One  the 


366       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

object  of  our  philosophic  meditation  must  needs  do  as 
follows.  Since  it  is  the  One  which  we  are  searching  for, 
and  the  source  of  all  things,  the  good  and  the  primal, 
which  we  are  beholding,  we  must  not  depart  from  the 
neighborhood  of  things  primal,  nor  sink  to  those  which 
come  last,  but  must  strive  rather  to  betake  ourselves 
from  them  and  their  show  of  sense  to  the  primal  things. 
We  must  free  ourselves  from  all  vice,  too,  if  we  be  eager 
for  the  good,  and  must  rise  to  the  principle  hidden  within 
ourselves,  and  throwing  off  our  multiplicity  become  one, 
and  be  made  that  principle  and  a  beholder  of  the  One. 
We  must  become  then  intellect,  and  intrust  our  souls  to 
our  intellect,  and  establish  them  there,  so  that  we  may- 
be conscious  of  what  the  intellect  beholds,  and  through 
it  enjoy  the  vision  of  the  One.  We  must  not  add  thereto 
any  sense-experience,  nor  receive  into  our  thought  any- 
thing that  comes  from  sense,  but  with  the  pure  intellect, 
and  the  primal  part  of  the  intellect  behold  the  Most 
Pure. 

If  now,  when  so  prepared,  we  attribute  in  our  im- 
agination either  extension  or  form  or  mass  to  this  nature, 
it  will  not  be  intellect  which  guides  our  vision,  because 
these  properties  are  not  naturally  objects  of  intellectual 
vision,  but  rather  of  the  activity  of  sense,  and  opinion 
which  follows  sense.  We  must  rather  get  from  the 
intellect  views  of  what  lies  within  its  power.  Nov/  the 
intellect  can  behold  either  what  is  prior  to  itself,  or  its 
own  nature,  or  what  comes  after  it.  Pure  is  its  own 
nature,  but  still  purer  and  simpler  what  are  or  rather  is 
prior  to  it.  This  is  not  intellect  but  prior  to  intellect. 
For  intellect  is  something  which  exists.  But  this  other 
nature  is  not  something,  but  is  prior  to  everything.  It 
is  not  an  existence,  for  what  exists  has  the  form  of  ex- 


PLOTINUS  367 

istence,  and  it  is  formless,  even  without  intelligible  form. 
I  say  this,  because  the  nature  of  the  One  being  the 
creator  of  all  things  is  itself  no  one  of  them.  So  it  is  not 
a  thing,  nor  quahty,  nor  quantity,  nor  intellect,  nor  soul, 
nor  in  motion,  nor  at  rest,  nor  in  space,  nor  in  time,  but 
is  the  absolutely  ^^monoform,"  or  rather  formless,  prior 
to  all  form,  prior  to  motion,  prior  to  rest.  For  these 
things  pertain  to  existence,  and  it  creates  them  in  their 
multiplicity. 

Why  now,  if  it  be  not  in  motion  is  it  not  at  rest? 
Because  either  or  both  of  these  properties  pertain  to 
being,  and  what  is  at  rest  is  so  by  virtue  of  stability,  and 
is  not  the  same  as  stability.  Hence  stability  is  an  at- 
tribute of  it,  and  it  is  no  longer  simple.  Also  if  we  call 
the  One  a  cause,  we  are  not  predicating  something  of  it, 
but  rather  something  of  ourselves,  inasmuch  as  we  are 
receiving  something  from  it  while  it  exists  in  itself. 
Again,  strictly  speaking  we  cannot  talk  of  the  One  as  a 
*'this,"  or  a  ''that,"  but  looking  at  it  from  without,  may 
only  wish  to  interpret  the  ways  in  which  it  affects  us. 
Now  we  get  nearer  to  it,  now  we  fall  farther  short  of  it, 
because  of  the  difficulties  that  hedge  it  about. 

The  greatest  of  these  difficulties  is  that  our  apprehen- 
sion of  the  One  does  not  partake  of  the  nature  of  either 
imderstanding  or  abstract  thought  as  does  our  knowledge 
of  other  intelligible  objects,  but  has  the  character  of 
presentation  higher  than  understanding.  For  under- 
standing proceeds  by  concepts,  and  the  concept  is  a 
multiple  affair,  and  the  soul  misses  the  One  when  she 
falls  into  number  and  plurality.  She  must  then  pass 
beyond  understanding,  and  nowhere  emerge  from  her 
unity.  She  must,  I  say,  withdraw  from  understanding 
and  its  objects  and  from  every  other  thing,  even  the 


368       SOURCE  BOOK   IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

vision  of  beauty.  For  everything  beautiful  comes  after 
it  and  is  derived  from  it,  as  all  daylight  from  the  sun. 
It  is  for  this  reason  that  Plato  says  that  the  One  is 
ineffable  in  spoken  or  written  word.  We  speak  and 
write  of  it,  however,  that  we  may  despatch  our  spirits 
toward  it,  and  rouse  them  from  the  contemplation  of 
mere  concepts  to  the  vision  of  it,  pointing  out  the  way, 
as  it  were,  to  one  eager  for  some  sight.  Instruction 
goes  as  far  as  showing  the  road  and  the  way.  But  the 
vision  is  the  work  of  him  who  has  already  willed  to  be- 
hold it.  .  .  .  * 

In  26  what  sense  now  is  the  One  one  ?  And  how  is 
it  to  be  grasped  by  our  thought?  I  reply,  it  must  be 
regarded  as  more  one  than  monad  or  point.  For  with 
these  latter  entities  the  soul  subtracts  magnitude  and 
numerical  quantity  and  stops  and  rests  at  the  smallest 
possible  remainder — which  is  indivisible  in  truth,  yet 
was  contained  in  the  divisible  and  is  found  in  other 
things.  The  One,  however,  is  found  neither  in  other 
things,  nor  in  the  divisible,  nor  is  it  indivisible  in  the 
sense  in  which  the  smallest  possible  remainder  is  in- 
divisible. It  is  the  greatest  of  all  things  not  in  extension, 
but  in  power,  and  hence  space  and  extension  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  its  power.  The  real  existences  which 
come  next  to  it  in  rank,  are  also  indivisible  and  undivided 
in  a  dynamic  not  a  spatial  sense.  We  are  to  understand, 
too,  that  it  is  infinite  not  by  virtue  of  being  immeasurable 
in  extension  or  number,  but  because  its  power  cannot 
be  comprehended  or  circumscribed.  When  you  think 
of  it  as  intellect  or  God,  it  is  more.     And  when  you  unify 

"Plotinua,  Enneads,  VI.  9,  §  6,  763  E  (C.  p.  1397,  1.  17;  V.  II. 
615,  1.  20). 


PLOTINUS  369 

it  in  your  thought  it  is  more — more  even  than  you 
could  imagine  God  himself  to  be,  if  you  imagined  him  to 
be  more  one  than  your  thought.  For  it  exists  in  itself 
and  has  no  attributes. 

One  would  not  be  wrong  perhaps  in  representing  God's 
unity  through  the  concept  of  self-sufficiency.  For  he 
must  be  the  sufficient  and  self-sufficing,  and  free  from 
wants  of  all  things,  whereas  everything  which  is  mul- 
tiple and  not  one  wants,  since  it  has  been  made  of 
many  things,  and  its  essence  stands  in  need  of  unity. 
But  the  One  does  not  stand  in  need  of  itself,  since  it  is 
itself.  Moreover,  a  thing  which  is  multiple  needs  as 
many  things  as  it  is  composed  of.  And  all  such  things 
are  subsequent  to  their  components,  and  not  self- 
existent,  but  need  other  things,  and  display  this  need 
both  in  their  parts  and  as  wholes. 

If  then  there  must  be  something  which  is  absolutety 
self-sufficient,  this  must  be  the  One,  and  must  be  so  in 
this  respect  alone,  namely,  that  it  wants  nothing  in  re- 
lation either  to  itself  or  to  other  things.  The  One  seeks 
nothing  in  order  that  it  may  exist  or  be  happy,  nor  yet 
anything  to  support  it.  Since  it  is  the  cause  of  all  else, 
it  owes  its  own  existence  to  nothing  else.  For  the  same 
reason  why  should  its  happiness  be  an  object  external 
to  itself?  It  follows  that  happiness  is  not  an  attribute 
of  the  One.  The  One  is  happiness.  Furthermore,  it  is 
not  to  be  found  in  space,  seeing  that  it  needs  no  space  as 
if  it  were  not  able  to  support  itself.  What  has  spatial 
position  is  inanimate  and  is  a  falling  mass  if  it  be  not 
placed  in  position.  Things  have  position  for  the  same 
reasons  that  they  coexist,  and  each  has  the  place  to 
which  it  has  been  assigned.  What  needs,  however,  a 
place  in  space  wants  something. 


370       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

Then  too  the  source  does  not  need  the  things  which 
follow  after  it,  and  the  source  of  all  things  has  no  need 
of  any.  For  what  wants,  w^ants  in  the  sense  that  it 
strives  after  its  source.  Again  if  the  One  needs  anything, 
it  is  clearly  seeking  not  to  be  One,  and  hence  needs  its 
own  destruction  qva  One.  Everything  which  wants, 
however,  stands  in  need  of  well-being  and  preservation. 
It  follows  that  for  the  One,  nothing  can  be  good,  nor  can 
it  wish  anything.  It  is  rather  super-good,  a  good  not 
for  itself  but  for  other  things,  if  any  of  them  be  able  to 
attain  it.  Nor  can  the  One  be  thinking,  lest  there  be 
difference  and  motion  in  it.  It  is  prior  to  motion  and  to 
thinking.  For  what  shall  it  think?  Itself?  In  that 
case  before  it  thinks  it  will  be  ignorant,  and  what  is  self- 
sufficient  will  need  thought  in  order  to  know  itself.  But 
it  does  not  follow  that  because  it  does  not  know  or  think 
itself,  it  will  be  ignorant  of  itself.  For  ignorance  has  to 
do  with  an  external  object,  as  w^hen  one  thing  is  ignorant 
of  another.  But  the  Only  One  will  neither  know  any- 
thing, nor  have  anything  to  be  ignorant  of.  Being  One 
and  united  with  itself  it  does  not  need  to  think  of  itself. 
You  cannot  even  catch  a  glimpse  of  it  by  ascribing  to  it 
union  with  itself.  Rather  must  you  take  away  thinking 
and  the  act  of  being  united,  and  thought  of  itself  and  of 
anything  else.  It  must  not  be  conceived  as  the  thinker, 
but  more  after  the  fashion  of  mere  thought,  which  does 
not  think  but  is  the  cause  of  thinking  in  something  else. 
The  cause,  however,  is  not  the  same  as  the  caused,  and 
the  cause  of  all  things  is  no  one  of  them.  It  must 
not  then  be  called  the  good  which  it  gives  to  other 
things,  but  in  some  other  sense  the  good  above  all  other 
goods. 


PLOTINUS  371 

THE    PROCESS    OF    EMANATION 

'fhe  27  One  is  all  things  and  yet  no  one  of  them.     For 
the  origin  of  all  things  is  itself,  not  they,  yet  all  things  are 
in  their  origin  inasmuch  as  they  may  all  be  traced  back  to 
their  som-ce.     It  is  better,  perhaps,  to  say  that  in  their 
origin  they  exist  not  as  present  but  as  future  things. 
How  then  can  they  proceed  from  the  One  in  its  simplicity, 
in  whose  self-identity  there  is  no  appearance  of  variety 
or  duality  whatsoever  ?     I  reply,  for  the  very  reason  that 
none  of  them  was  in  the  One,  are  all  of  them  derived 
from  it.     Furthermore,  in  order  that  they  may  be  real 
existences,  the  One  is  not  an  existence,  but  the  father  of 
existences.     And  the  generation  of  existence  is  as  it  were 
the  first  act  of  generation.     Being  perfect  by  reason  of 
neither  seeking  nor  possessing  nor  needing  anything, 
the  One  overflows  as  it  were,  and  what  overflows  forms 
another  hypostasis.  .  .  .  For  ^s  whenever  anything  else 
comes  to  perfection  we  see  that  it  procreates  and,  un- 
wilUng  to  remain  in  itself,  creates  another  being.     This  is 
true  not  only  of  beings  which  possess  conscious  purpose, 
but  also   of  things  which  develop  without  conscious 
purpose.     Indeed,  even  inanimate  objects  share  them- 
selves as  far  as  may  be.     Thus  fire  heats  and  cold  chills 
and  drugs  have  their  appropriate  effects  upon  other 
things,  and  all  things  imitate  their  origins  as  they  are 
able  with  a  view  to  their  everlasting  self-perpetuation 
and  goodness.     How  then  should  the  most  perfect  and 
primal  good  stay  shut  up  in  itself  as  if  it  were  envious  or 
impotent?    And  it  the  power  of  all  things!     How  could 
it  be  the  origin  of  anything?     Something  then  must  be 
begotten  of  it,  if  any  of  the  other  hypostases  which  are 

"Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  §  2,  493  (C.  p.  918;  V.  II.  176). 
"lb.,  V.  §  4,  517  (C.  p.  958,  1.  17;  V.  II.  203,  19). 


372       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

derived  from  it  are  to  exist.  Necessarily,  then,  something 
comes  from  it.  Also  what  begets  all  that  comes  after  it 
must  be  most  worthy  of  worship,  and  the  hypostasis 
second  to  it  better  than  any  other  created  thing.  .  .  . 

* 
*  * 

If  29  now  there  be  an  hypostasis  second  to  it,  and  it  be 
unmoved  itself,  the  second  hypostasis  must  come  into 
being  without  any  inclination  or  will  or  motion  of  any 
sort  on  the  part  of  the  One.  How  is  this  accomplished 
and  how  are  we  to  think  of  this  second  hypostasis  that 
surrounds  the  abiding  and  changeless  essence  of  the  One  ? 
We  are  to  think  of  it  as  a  radiance  proceeding  from  the 
One,  and  from  the  One  abiding  in  its  changelessness,  just 
as  the  light  about  and  surrounding  the  sun  is  eternally 
generated  from  it,  without  any  change  or  motion  in  the 
solar  substance.  Indeed  all  things  while  they  last 
necessarily  give  of  their  own  power  an  hypostasis  pro- 
ceeding from  their  own  essence,  outside  of  and  surround- 
ing them,  and  attached  to  them — an  image  as  it  were  of 
the  archetypes  which  have  brought  it  forth.  Fire  dis- 
penses heat  from  itself,  and  snow  does  not  keep  its  cold 
only  within  itself.  But  the  best  witnesses  of  this  fact  are 
sweet-smelling  substances.  For  as  long  as  they  exist 
there  goes  forth  something  from  them  which  surrounds 
them  and  is  enjoyed  by  any  one  w^ho  happens  to  stand 
near.  And  everything  on  attaining  perfection  generates, 
and  what  is  eternally  perfect  eternally  generates  the 
eternal;  but  what  is  generated  is  less  than  the  generator. 
What  now  are  we  to  say  of  the  most  perfect?  Nothing 
comes  from  it  but  what  is  greatest  after  it.  And  the 
greatest  after  it  and  second  in  rank  is  the  intellect.  .  .  . 

"Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  §  1,  487  (C.  p.  906,  1.  16;  V.  II.  168, 
1.  15). 


PLOTINUS  373 

We  2^  say  that  the  intellect  is  an  image  of  the  One. 
But  we  must  speak  with  more  precision.  In  the  first 
place  we  call  it  an  image  because  it  is  begotten  of  the 
One,  and  preserves  much  of  the  nature  of  the  One,  and 
is  very  hke  the  One,  as  light  is  hke  the  sun.  But  it  is  not 
the  One.  How  then  does  the  One  generate  the  intellect? 
In  this  wise — through  what  is  generated  by  it  turning 
back  to  behold  it.  This  vision  is  the  intellect.  .  .  . 
That  31  world  of  which  the  One  is  the  possibility,  the 
intellect  perceives,  separating  it  as  it  were  from  its 
possibility.  Else  it  w^ould  not  be  intellect,  since  the 
essence  of  intellect  consists  in  a  kind  of  awareness  of  its 
possibilities  and  powers.  It  defines  then  through  itself 
its  own  being  by  virtue  of  the  possibilities  got  from  the 
One.  It  is  as  it  were  a  part  of  what  comes  from  the  One, 
and  gets  its  essence  thence  and  is  established  by  the  One, 
and  perfected  in  essence  from  and  of  it.  It  sees  that  to 
itself  as  to  the  divisible  from  the  indivisible  have  come 
life  and  thought  and  all  things,  and  that  the  One  is  none 
of  them.  .  .  .  This  ^^  intellect  so  begotten  is  worthy 
of  being  the  purest  intellect,  and  has  no  other  source 
than  the  first  principle  [the  One].  In  being  begotten,  it 
generates  everything  else  with  it,  all  the  beauty  of  the 
ideas,  all  the  intelligible  goods.  And  it  is  filled  with 
everything  it  generates,  and  swallows  them  again,  so  to 
speak,  and  contains  them  within  itself  lest  they  fall  into 
matter.  ... 

Now  33  the  intellect  being  like  the  One  follows  the 
example  of  the  One  and  pom's  forth  a  mighty  power. 
This  power  is  a  particular  form  of  itself,  as  was  the  case 

30  Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  §  1  488  A.     3i  lb.,  488  B.     32  ib.,  489  A. 
33  lb.,  y.  §  2,  494  (C.  p.  919,  1.  9;  V.  II.  176,  1.  18). 


374       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

with  that  which  the  principle  prior  to  intellect  poured 
forth.  And  this  activity  proceeding  from  essence  is  soul, 
begotten  without  change  or  motion  in  the  intellect — for 
intellect  was  begotten  without  change  or  motion  in  the 
principle  prior  to  it.  But  the  soul  does  not  create, 
abiding  in  her  changelessness,  but  in  change  and  motion 
she  generates  an  image.  Looking  to  the  source  of  her 
existence,  she  is  filled  with  intellect,  but  when  she  pro- 
ceeds to  other  and  opposite  motions  then  she  generates 
an  image  of  herself,  sensation  and  the  nature  in  plants. 
But  none  of  these  things  is  removed  or  cut  off  from 
what  is  prior  to  it.  .  .  .       ^ 

There  ^^  is  then  a  procession  from  the  origin  of  all 
things  to  the  last  and  least  of  them,  and  each  is  left  in  its 
appropriate  position.  What  is  begotten  holds  another 
and  lower  place  than  what  begets,  yet  each  thing  remains 
identified  with  that  which  it  follows,  as  long  as  it  seeks 
after  it. 

3^  Plotinus,  Enneads,  V.  §  2,  494  A, 


XXIII 
VLOTINJJS— Continued 

MATTER 

If  1  now  the  world  of  real  existences  and  what  tran- 
scends real  existence  is  such  as  we  have  described,  no 
evil  can  inhere  either  in  real  existence  or  in  the  tran- 
scendent One.  For  they  are  good.  If  then  evil  exist, 
there  remains  for  it  the  sphere  of  not-being,  and  it  is  as  it 
were  a  certain  form  of  not-being,  and  is  concerned  with 
things  mixed  with  not-being  or  having  some  commerce 
with  it.  By  not-being  I  do  not  mean  absolute  non- 
existence, but  only  what  is  different  from  real  existence. 
Nor  do  I  mean  not-being  in  the  sense  that  motion  and 
rest  which  are  attributes  of  being  are  not  being,  but 
rather  in  the  sense  of  an  image  of  real  existence,  or  of 
something  which  has  even  less  existence  than  an  image. 

^Yhsit  I  am  alluding  to  is  the  phenomenal  universe  and 
all  the  affections  of  the  sensible  world.  Or  it  may  be  it 
is  either  something  which  follows  upon  the  phenomenal, 
and  is  as  it  were  a  property  thereof,  or  else  is  its  origin 
or  some  one  of  the  things  which  go  to  make  up  the  sensi- 
ble world,  such  as  it  is.  And  one  might  come  to  think 
of  it  as  lack  of  measure  with  respect  to  measure,  and 
as  infinity  with  respect  to  finitude,  and  formless  with 
respect  to  the  formative,  and  eternally  wanting  with 
respect  to  the  self-sufficient,   as  indeterminate,  never 

iPotinus,  Enneads,  I.  8,  §  3,  73  D  (C  p.  139;  V.  I   101). 
375 


376       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

at  rest,  subject  to  every  affection,  insatiate,  poverty 
absolute.  These  characteristics  are  not  properties  of  it 
but  its  essence,  and  whatever  part  of  evil  you  may  see 
you  will  find  has  them  all. 

Now  whatever  else  participates  in  it  and  is  assimilated 
to  it  becomes  bad,  yet  is  not  the  principle  of  evil.  What 
then  is  the  hypostasis  in  which  evil  is  present  not  as 
something  extraneous  but  as  the  hypostasis  itself?  For 
were  evil  an  attribute  of  something  else,  there  must  needs 
be  something  prior  to  it,  even  if  it  be  not  an  essence  of 
some  sort.  Just  as  there  is  good  the  principle,  and  good 
the  predicate,  so  there  is  also  evil  which  exists  as  a  prin- 
ciple, and  evil  predicated  according  to  this  principle  of 
some  other  subject.  But,  do  you  say,  what  is  measur- 
edness  if  it  does  not  consist  in  being  measured,  what 
measure  if  it  does  not  lie  in  the  measured?  I  reply  that 
just  as  there  is  measure  beside  what  is  measured,  so  there 
is  unmeasuredness  which  is  not  merely  in  the  thing 
unmeasured.  For  did  it  exist  in  some  other  subject,  it 
must  exist  either  in  the  unmeasured — which  is  impossible 
since  it  has  no  need  of  unmeasuredness,  being  itself 
unmeasured — or  in  the  measured,  which  is  impossible 
since  the  measured  cannot  possess  unmeasuredness  in  so 
far  as  it  is  measured.  Hence  there  must  be  something 
infinite  in  itself,  and  formless  in  itself  and  everything  else 
aforesaid  which  characterized  the  nature  of  evil.  And 
if  anything  else  be  evil,  it  either  has  evil  by  admixture, 
or  by  regarding  it,  or  by  performing  it.  That,  then, 
which  underlies  figures  and  forms  and  structures  and 
measures  and  bounds,  and  is  adorned  with  an  orderli- 
ness foreign  to  it,  having  nothing  good  of  itself,  and 
being  a  mere  phantom  as  compared  with  the  soul,  the 
very  essence  of  evil,  if  evil  can  have  an  essence — that,  I 


PLOTINUS  377 

say,  is  discovered  by  our  discourse  to  be  the  primal 

and  the  absolute  evil.  .  .  . 

* 
*  * 

We  2  must  now  consider  the  meaning  of  the  saying  that 
evil  cannot  be  destroyed  but  exists  of  necessity,  and  that 
it  does  not  exist  among  the  gods,  but  ever  hovers  about 
this  mortal  nature  of  ^^this  place."  The  meaning  is  that 
the  heaven  is  pure  of  evil,  and  goes  with  a  regular  and 
orderly  motion,  and  that  there  is  no  unrighteousness 
there,  nor  other  vice,  nor  injury  of  one  part  by  another  in 
their  appointed  courses;  whereas  on  earth  there  is  un- 
righteousness and  disorder.  This  is  what  Plato  means 
by  mortal  nature,  and  the  phrase  ^^this  place.''  And  the 
duty  of  fleeing  hence  is  not  to  be  taken  locally  as  refer- 
ring to  earthly  places.  Our  flight,  he  says,  does  not  lie 
in  going  away  from  the  earth,  but  in  living  on  earth  in 
righteousness  and  holiness  and  sweet  reasonableness, 
which  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  we  must  flee  from  vice. 
It  is  vice  then  and  its  consequences  that  he  means  by 
evil. 

But  when  Theodorus  in  the  dialogue  answers  that  evil 
could  be  removed  if  only  men  could  be  persuaded  of  the 
truth  of  this  opinion,  Socrates  answers  that  this  could 
not  possibly  happen,  since  evil  exists  of  necessity,  seeing 
that  there  must  be  some  opposite  to  the  good.  .  .  .  But  ^ 
in  what  sense  does  it  follow  that  if  good  exists  evil  also 
will  exist?  In  this,  I  say,  that  there  has  to  be  matter  in 
the  universe.  For  this  universe  is  necessarily  composed 
of  opposites,  and  could  not  exist  were  there  no  matter. 
The  nature  of  the  universe  is  mixed,  as  Plato  says,  of 
reason  and  necessity.    And  whatever  comes  to  it  from 

2  Plotinus,  Enneads,  I.  8,  75  G  (C.  p.  144,  1.  6;  V.  I.  104,  1.  29) 
»Ib.,  §  7,  77  B  (C.  p.  147,  1.  6;  V.  I.  106,  1.  31). 


378       SOURCE  BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

God  is  good,  but  the  evil  comes  from  the  primeval  nature, 
by  which  he  means  the  underlying  matter  as  yet  unbeau- 
tified  by  form.  .  .  .  From  ^  what  has  been  said  then  we 
can  now  understand  the  necessity  of  evil.  Since  the  good 
is  not  soUtary,  there  must  necessarily  result  from  the 
emanation  or,  if  one  prefer,  from  the  degeneration  and 
departure  from  the  good,  something  ultimate  and  last, 
beyond  and  after  which  nothing  more  can  be  generated. 
This  ultimate  and  last  thing  is  evil.  That  something 
should  follow  from  the  first  principle  is  necessary,  hence 
this  last  thing  is  necessary.  And  this  is  matter  which 
has  no  remainder  of  the  good  and  the  first  in  it.  Hence 
the  necessity  of  evil.  ^^ 

That  ^  there  must  be  some  substratum  in  bodies  differ- 
ent from  the  bodies  themselves  is  evidenced  by  the  con- 
version of  the  elements  into  one  another.  For  the 
destruction  of  what  is  converted  is  not  complete  since, 
if  it  were,  a  substance  would  be  put  out  of  existence. 
Nor  does  what  is  generated  come  into  being  from  abso- 
lute not-being.  There  is  rather  a  change  of  form  from 
one  form  to  another.  In  change  that  remains  change- 
less which  receives  the  form  of  what  it  becomes,  and  puts 
off  the  form  of  what  it  previously  was.  Destruction 
shows  this  plainly,  for  it  pertains  to  compound  objects. 
If  this  be  true,  everything  is  composed  of  matter  and 
form.  Induction  bears  witness  also,  in  showing  that 
what  is  destroyed  is  compound,  also  analysis.  For  ex- 
ample if  a  cup  can  be  dissolved  into  gold,  and  gold  into 
water,  analogy  demands  also  that  the  water  be  dissoluble. 
The  elements  then  must  be  either  form  or  primitive  mat- 

■  Plotinus,  Enneads,  I.  §  7,  77  E. 

»Ib.,  II.  4,  §  6,  162  C  (C.  288,  1.  3;  V.  I.  154.  I.  30). 


PLOTINUS  379 

ter  or  a  composite  of  matter  and  form.  It  is  impossible, 
however,  that  they  should  be  form,  for  how  could  they 
have  magnitude  and  extension  without  having  matter? 
But  they  cannot  be  primitive  matter,  seeing  that  they 
are  destroyed.  They  are  then  a  composite  of  matter 
and  form,  form  in  respect  to  quality  and  structure, 
matter  in  respect  to  a  substratum  which  is  indeterminate 
because  it  has  no  form. 

What  then  is  this  substratum  which  we  say  is  one  and 
continuous  and  without  quality  like?  That  it  cannot  be 
corporeal  if  it  is  without  quality  is  plain  enough.  If  we 
say  that  it  is  the  matter  of  all  sensible  objects — I  don't 
mean  the  matter  of  some,  and  form  in  relation  to  others 
as  clay  is  matter  for  the  potter  yet  absolutely  speaking 
not  matter,  but  I  do  mean  matter  in  relation  to  every- 
thing— we  ought  not  to  attach  to  its  nature  any  property 
perceived  in  sensible  objects.  In  that  case,  in  addition 
to  qualities  like  colors  and  heat  and  cold,  we  ought  not 
to  attribute  to  it  lightness  or  heaviness  or  density  or 
rarity  or  structure  and  hence  not  even  extension.  For 
extension  is  one  thing,  that  which  is  given  extension 
another,  structure  one  thing,  that  which  is  given  structure 
another.  It  must  also  not  be  compound  but  simple  and 
one  in  nature.  For  in  this  wise  is  it  empty  of  all  at- 
tributes. 

And  what  gives  it  form  will  give  it  a  form  which  is 
different  from  and  independent  of  matter,  bringing  ex- 
tension and  everything  else  to  it  from  the  realm  of  real 
existences.  Otherwise  the  formative  principle  would  be 
conditioned  by  the  extent  of  matter  on  hand,  and  would 
do  not  as  it  wishes  but  as  matter  wishes.  That  its  will 
should  coincide  with  the  extent  of  matter  is  an  absurd 
supposition.     But  if  the  formative  principle  be  prior  to 


380       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

matter  then  matter  will  be  entirely  such  as  the  principle 
wishes  and  will  be  easily  cast  into  all  sorts  of  forms,  and 
hence  into  extension.  But  if  it  had  extension  it  would 
also  possess  a  structure,  and  hence  would  be  more  in- 
tractable. Form  then  enters  into  it  and  brings  every- 
thing to  it.  The  form  possesses  everything,  even  ex- 
tension and  everything  else  which  is  contained  in  the 
seminal  reason  and  exists  through  its  agency.  It  fol- 
lows from  this  that  in  the  case  of  particular  kinds  of 
things  their  quantity  is  determined  along  with  their  form. 
For  the  quantity  of  a  man  is  different  from  that  of  birds, 
and  of  this  or  that  bird.  It  is  no  more  remarkable  that 
quantity  should  bring  a  new  property  to  matter  than 
that  quality  should.  Nor  could  quality  be  a  seminal 
reason,  and  quantity,  which  is  measure  and  number, 
not  a  form.  ... 

If,6  however,  the  substratum  were  some  quality  which 
all  the  elements  had  in  common,  we  should  have  in  the 
first  place  to  say  what  that  quality  was,  and  then  to 
show  how  a  quality  could  be  a  substratum,  and  how 
quaHty  could  be  seen  in  the  unextended  with  neither 
matter  nor  extension  to  it ;  and  yet  again,  how  if  quality 
be  determinate  it  can  be  matter.  On  the  other  hand 
were  it  something  indeterminate  it  would  not  be  quality 
but  substratum  and  the  matter  which  we  are  looking  for. 
But  one  may  object  at  this  point — granted  that  matter 
has  no  qualities  in  that  its  nature  is  to  partake  of  none, 
what  is  still  to  prevent  its  being  qualified  by  just  this 
fact,  that  it  partakes  of  none,  and  to  hinder  it  from  pos- 
sessing a  property  in  all  respects  peculiar  to  itself,  and 

•Plotinus,  Enneads,  II.  4,  §  13,  167  B  (C.  p.  298,  1.  14;  V.  I. 
162,  1.  8). 


PLOTINUS  381 

from  differing  from  all  other  qualities  in  this  very  point 
of  being  an  absence  or  privation  of  every  quality?  One 
who  has  been  deprived  of  any  quality  is  qualified  by  his 
privation,  as  for  example  a  blind  man.  If  then  an 
absence  or  privation  of  qualities  be  attributed  to  mat- 
ter why  is  it  not  qualified  thereby?  And  if  absolute 
privation  be  ascribed  to  it  why  is  it  not  even  more 
qualified?  That  is,  of  course,  if  privation  be  a  kind  of 
quality. 

If,  however,  a  man  argue  thus,  what  is  he  doing  but 
turning  everything  into  qualifications  and  qualities? 
Quantity  then  would  be  a  quality,  and  essence.  But  if 
a  thing  be  qualified,  quality  is  added  to  it.  It  is,  how- 
ever, absurd  to  make  a  qualified  thing  of  w^hat  is  different 
from  the  qualified  and  is  not  qualified.  Or  do  you  say 
that  it  is  qualified  by  the  fact  of  this  difference?  But  if 
you  mean  that  matter  is  sheer  absolute  difference  then  it 
cannot  be  qualified,  since  simple  quality  is  not  itself  a 
qualified  thing.  If  you  mean,  on  the  contrary,  that 
matter  is  merely  different  from  other  things,  then  it  is 
merely  different,  not  of  its  own  nature  but  by  virtue  of 
difference,  and  the  same  by  virtue  of  sameness.  Priva- 
tion then  is  not  quality  or  a  qualified  thing,  but  is  a  want 
of  quality  or  of  anything  else,  just  as  silence  is  a  want  of 
sound  or  of  anything  else  you  please.  For  privation  is 
negation,  and  the  qualified  is  found  in  the  sphere  of  the 
positive.  The  peculiar  property  of  matter  is  not  form, 
but  rather  not  being  qualified  and  not  having  any  form. 
It  is  absurd  to  say  that  what  is  not  qualified  is  qualified. 
That  is  like  saying  that  a  thing  has  not  extension  for 
the  very  reason  that  it  has. 

Moreover  this  peculiar  property  of  matter  is  nox  some- 
thing different  from  the  essence  of  matter  and  is  not 


382       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

added  to  it,  but  lies  rather  in  the  relation  matter  bears  to 
other  things,  to  wit,  that  it  is  something  different  from 
them.  Other  things,  however,  are  not  merely  ''other," 
but  each  has  an  individual  form.  Matter,  on  the  con- 
trary, ought  properly  to  be  called  merely  ''an  other,"  or 
perhaps  "other"  in  the  plural,  so  that  you  may  not  de- 
termine it  by  using  the  singular,  but  by  the  use  of  the 
plural  indicate  its  indeterminate  character.  .  .  . 

*     * 

But  ^  if  matter  be  without  quality  how  can  it  be  evil? 
I  reply  that  it  is  defined  as  without  quality  in  the  sense 
that  it  possesses  itself  none  of  those  qualities  of  which  it 
is  receptive  and  which  inhere  in  it  as  a  substratum,  but 
not  in  the  sense  that  it  has  no  nature.  If,  however,  it 
have  a  certain  nature,  what  prevents  this  nature's 
being  evil?  I  do  not  mean  evil,  as  qualified  thereby. 
For  quality  is  that  by  predication  of  which  something 
else  is  qualified.  It  is  then  an  attribute  and  is  located 
in  a  subject  other  than  itself.  But  matter  is  not 
located  in  a  subject  different  from  itself,  but  is  the 
substratum  of  which  all  attributes  are  predicated.  Since 
then  every  quality  is  by  nature  a  predicate,  and  matter 
happens  to  have  no  predicates,  matter  is  said  to  be  with- 
out quality.  Again  if  quality  is  itself  unqualified,  how 
could  matter  which  has  received  no  qualities  be  called 
qualified? 

It  is  correct  then  to  speak  of  matter  both  as  having  no 
quaUties,  and  as  being  evil.  For  it  is  not  called  evil  be- 
cause it  has  qualities  but  rather  because  it  has  not,  lest 
otherwise  it  were  evil  from  being  form,  and  not  from 
being  the  nature  opposite  to  form. 

'Plotinus,  Enneads,  I.  8.  §  10,  79  C  (C.  p.  152;  V.  I.  110,  1.  8). 


PLOTINUS  383 

Finally  ^  how  are  we  to  have  knowledge  of  the  unex- 
tended  m  matter?  And  how  are  we  to  know  anything 
that  has  no  qualities?  And  what  must  be  the  concept 
thereof,  and  the  starting-point  for  our  reflection?  I  say, 
indeterminateness.  For  if  like  is  known  by  Uke,  then 
the  indeterminate  is  known  by  the  indeterminate. 
There  might  indeed  be  a  definite  concept  of  the  indeter- 
minate, but  the  point  from  which  we  must  start  toward 
it  is  indeterminate.  And  if  each  thing  be  known  by 
means  of  conception  and  thought,  and  here  the  concept 
tells  what  it  ought  to  tell  about  matter,  and  still  the 
thought  which  w^e  desire  is  not  a  thought  but  rather 
the  absence  thereof,  then  our  representation  of  matter 
would  be  rather  a  bastard  and  illegitimate  concept, 
born  of  the  untrue  principle  of  the  Other,  and  mixed 
with  it.  Perhaps  it  is  with  this  in  his  mind's  eye 
that  Plato  talks  of  matter  as  apprehended  by  a  bastard 
concept. 

What,  however,  is  the  indeterminateness  of  the  soul? 
Is  it  a  complete  ignorance  like  an  absence  of  all  knowl- 
edge? No,  the  indeterminate  has  a  kind  of  positive- 
ness,  and  just  as  for  the  eye  darkness  is  the  matter  of  all 
invisible  colors,  so  the  soul  when  she  takes  away  every- 
thing from  sensible  objects  as  one  might  take  away  light, 
and  is  left  with  something  which  it  is  no  longer  possible  to 
define,  becomes  like  the  eye  in  the  dark,  and  finally  is  in 
a  sense  identified  with  what  she  sees.  AATiat  then  does 
she  see?  Something  like  formlessness  and  want  of  color 
and  absence  of  light,  and  also  lack  of  extension.  Other- 
wise this  something  will  present  itself  in  some  form  or 
other.     But  when  she  sees  nothing  is  she  not  affected  in 

'Plotinus,  Enneads,  II.  4,  §  10,  164  D  (C.  p.  292,  1.  14;  V.  I. 
158,  1.  4). 


384       SOURCE   BOOK  IN   ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

the  same  way?  Not  at  all.  For  when  she  sees  nothing, 
she  reports  nothing,  or  rather  she  is  not  aifected  at  all. 
But  when  she  sees  matter  she  is  affected  as  it  were  by  an 
impression  of  the  formless.  And  when  she  thinks  of 
what  has  form  and  extension,  she  thinks  of  something 
compound,  as  colored  and  as  concretely  determined. 
She  thinks  of  the  whole,  and  thinks  of  it  as  all  belonging 
together,  and  her  thought  or  perception  of  its  properties 
is  clear.  But  her  thought  of  the  formless  substratum 
underlying  them  is  obscure,  and  obscure  is  the  nature  of 
the  formless  substratum  underlying  them,  for  it  is  with- 
out form.  There  is  then  a  residuum  in  the  whole  and 
compound  object  which  is  comprehended  along  with  the 
properties,  and  is  left  by  reason  in  its  analysis  and  ab- 
straction of  the  properties.  And  this  the  soul  thinks 
obscurely  as  an  obscure  thing,  and  darkly  as  a  dark 
thing,  and  thinks  it  by  not  thinking.  But  since  matter 
itself  does  not  remain  formless  but  has  been  given  form 
in  concrete  things,  the  soul  also  immediately  adds  the 
form  of  concrete  things  to  it,  being  pained  by  the  indeter- 
minate as  if  afraid  of  being  beyond  the  pale  of  real  exist- 
ence, and  not  suffering  herself  to  stop  long  in  the  realm 
of  not-being. 

SIN   AND   SALVATION 

The  ^  soul  is  not  essentially  vicious,  and  again  every 
soul  is  not  vicious.  What  then  is  a  vicious  soul?  She, 
says  Plato,  who  has  become  the  slave  of  a  man  whose 
nature  engenders  evil  in  her  through  the  reception  of 
evil  and  lack  of  measure  and  superfluity  and  deficiency  on 
the  part  of  her  irrational  form.  From  these  characteris- 
tics wantonness  and  cowardice  and  the  rest  of  the  soul's 

•  PlotiQUs,  Enneads,  I.  8,  §  4,  740  (C.  p.  141, 1.  3;  V.  I.  102, 1.  22). 


PLOTINUS  385 

vices  arise,  as  involuntary  affections  provocative  of 
false  opinions  and  estimations  of  the  good  and  evil  which 
she  shuns  and  pursues.  AVhat,  however,  is  it  that  is 
responsible  for  this  viciousness,  and  after  what  fashion 
are  we  to  refer  vice  to  an  origin  and  cause? 

I  reply  that  in  the  first  place  the  vicious  soul  is  not 
outside  of  matter  and  is  not  wholly  herself.  She  is 
mixed  with  disproportion,  and  is  without  part  in  the 
form  which  brings  order  and  induces  proportion.  For 
she  is  mingled  with  the  body  which  is  material.  In  the 
second  place,  if  her  reasoning  faculty  be  damaged,  her 
vision  is  hindered  both  by  her  affections,  and  by  being 
darkened  by  matter  and  inclined  toward  matter,  and 
in  general  by  her  looking  not  toward  existence  but 
toward  generation.  And  of  transition  and  generation 
the  nature  of  matter  is  the  source,  a  nature  so  evil  that 
the  soul  which  even  looks  toward  it,  though  it  be  not  yet 
in  it,  is  filled  with  evil.  For  since  matter  is  wholly 
without  part  in  the  good  and  is  the  privation  thereof,  and 
pure  lack,  it  makes  like  to  itself  everything  whatsoever 
which  touches  it. 

The  soul,  however,  which  is  perfect  and  ever  inclined 
to  the  intellect  is  ever  pure  and  turned  from  matter,  and 
neither  sees  nor  approaches  anything  which  is  indeter- 
minate, or  without  measure,  or  evil.  She  remains  then 
pure,  absolutely  determined  as  she  is  by  the  intellect. 
But  if  she  does  not  remain  so,  but  goes  forth  from  her- 
self, then  she  is  on  an  imperfect  and  secondary  plane  of 
existence,  and  is  a  mere  shadow  of  her  former  self  because 
of  her  failure  in  so  far  as  she  has  failed,  and  is  filled  with 
disproportionateness  and  sees  darkness.  At  this  point 
she  already  has  hold  of  matter,  seeing  what  she  does  not 
see,  just  as  we  talk  about  '^seeing  the  dark." 


386       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 

Now  10  often  I  am  roused  from  the  body  to  my  true 
self,  and  emerge  from  all  else  and  enter  myself,  and  be- 
hold a  marvellous  beauty,  and  am  particularly  persuaded 
at  the  time  that  I  belong  to  a  better  sphere,  and  live  a 
supremely  good  hfe,  and  become  identical  with  the  god- 
head, and  fast  fixed  therein  attain  its  divine  activity, 
having  reached  a  plane  above  the  whole  intelligible 
realm;  and  then  after  this  sojourn  in  the  godhead  I 
descend  from  the  intelligible  world  to  the  plane  of  dis- 
cursive thought.  And  after  I  have  descended  I  am  at  a 
loss  to  know  how  it  is  that  I  have  done  so,  and  how  my 
soul  has  entered  into  my  body,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
she  really  is  as  her  inmost  nature  was  revealed,  and  yet 

is  in  the  body.  ... 

*  * 

In  11  seeking  to  learn  Plato's  teaching  concerning  our 
souls,  we  are  forced  to  inquire  in  addition  into  the  ques- 
tion of  soul  in  general,  and  ask  how  it  comes  in  the  nature 
of  things  to  have  commerce  with  the  body.  Also  we 
ought  to  consider  the  nature  of  the  universe  in  which  the 
soul  lives.  .  .  .  The  i^  body  of  the  world,  we  find,  is  com- 
plete and  sufficient  and  self-sufficing,  and  has  nothing  in 
it  contrary  to  nature.  Hence  it  needs  but  slight  ordering, 
and  its  soul  is  eternally  as  she  wishes  herself  to  be,  and  is 
without  desires  or  affections.  Nothing  is  absent  from 
her,  and  nothing  is  added  to  her.  So  it  is  that  Plato 
says  that  our  soul  when  in  the  companionship  of  that 
perfect  world-soul  becomes  perfect  herself,  lives  on  high 
and  directs  the  whole  universe.  Did  she  not  separate 
herself  therefrom  and  enter  into  bodies  and  become  the 

10  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  8,  §  1,  468  (C.  p.  872;  V.  II.  1.  142). 

11  lb.,  §  2,  470. 

12  lb.,  470  a 


PLOTINUS  387 

soul  of  some  particular  body,  she  herself  like  and  with 
the  world-soul  would  easily  govern  the  universe.  It  is 
not  then  under  all  circumstances  an  evil  thing  for  the 
soul  to  provide  the  possibility  of  existence  and  well- 
being  to  a  body.  For  not  all  providential  care  of  things 
inferior  deprives  him  who  exercises  it  of  living  on  the 
best  and  highest  level.  .  .  . 

*  * 

There  ^^  are  two  ways  in  which  the  commerce  of  the 
soul  with  bodies  may  cause  trouble.  In  the  first  place 
it  may  be  a  hindrance  to  thought,  and  secondly  it  may 
fill  the  soul  full  of  pleasures  and  desires  and  griefs.  Still 
neither  of  these  contingencies  should  occur  in  the  case  of 
a  soul  that  has  not  sunk  into  the  interior  of  the  body, 
nor  is  the  soul  of  a  particular  body  nor  has  come  to  be- 
long to  one — a  case  where  rather  the  body  belongs  to  the 
soul,  and  is  such  as  to  have  no  want  or  deficiency,  and 
hence  as  not  to  fill  the  soul  with  desires  or  fears.  For 
nothing  to  fear  occurs  to  her  in  connection  with  such  a 
body,  nor  does  any  w^ant  of  leisure  make  her  incline 
downw^ard  and  lead  her  away  from  the  better  and 
beatific  vision.  On  the  contrary  the  soul  of  such  a 
body  is  ever  in  the  higher  regions  ordering  the  world  with 
a  power  free  from  all  care. 

*  * 

Now,^^  individual  souls  which  are  endowed  on  the  one 
hand  with  inclination  tow^ard  the  intellect,  turning 
as  they  do  to  that  which  generates  them,  and  on  the 
other  possess  a  power  which  reaches  even  to  this  ter- 
restrial sphere,  just  as  light  both  depends  on  the  sun 
above  and  yet  does  not  grudge  giving  itseK  to  the  world 

"  Plotinus,  Enneads,  IV.  8,  §  2,  471  A. 
»^Ib.,  472  A,  §4. 


888       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

below;  individual  souls,  I  say,  are  without  sin  so  long  as 
they  remain  with  the  world-soul  in  the  intelligible  world, 
and  in  heaven  rule  things  in  her  company.  Like  kings 
associated  with  the  ruler  of  all  things  they  reign  jointly 
vvith  her  without  descending  from  their  royal  thrones. 
Ajid  they  are  co-regents  with  her  because  they  are  con- 
joined with  her  in  the  same  royal  state.  But  if  they  alter 
their  mode  of  existence  and  change  from  the  whole  to 
the  part,  and  take  to  existing  independently  and  of 
themselves,  and  find,  so  to  speak,  their  association  with 
the  world-soul  irksome,  they  revert  each  to  an  inde- 
pendent existence.  When  they  have  done  this  for  some 
time,  and  have  deserted  the  world-soul  and  estranged 
themselves  from  her  through  their  separation,  and  no 
longer  regard  the  intelligible  universe,  then  each  be- 
comes a  part  and  is  isolated  and  weakened  and  busied 
Vv^ith  many  things,  and  regards  the  part  instead  of  the 
whole.  And  then  when  each  through  her  separation 
from  the  whole  has  lighted  upon  some  one  particular 
part,  and  has  deserted  everything  else,  and  turned  to 
and  entered  into  that  one  part  which  is  subject  to  the  im- 
pact and  influence  of  other  things,  her  apostasy  from  the 
whole  is  accomplished,  and  she  directs  the  individual 
surrounded  as  he  is  by  an  environment,  and  is  already  in 
contact  and  concerned  with  external  things,  and  lives  in 
their  presence  and  has  sunk  deep  into  them.  Then  it  is 
that  she  is  aptly  said  to  have  lost  her  wings  and  to  lie  in 
the  bonds  of  the  body — erring  as  she  is  from  her  life  of 
innocence  passed  in  governing  the  higher  world  at  the 
side  of  the  world-soul.  This  prior  state  is  altogether 
better  if  she  will  but  return  thither,  but  as  it  is,  she  is 
fallen  and  fettered,  and  inasmuch  as  she  exercises  her 
activities  through  the  medium  of  sense,  because  pre- 


1 


PLOTINUS  389 

vented  in  the  beginning  from  exercising  them  through  the 
intellect,  Plato  talks  of  her  as  buried  and  in  a  dark  cave. 
But  her  return  to  pure  thought  when  through  her 
recollection  of  her  former  state  she  gets  a  point  of  de- 
parture toward  the  vision  of  real  existence  is  called  a 
loosening  of  her  bonds  and  an  ascent  to  the  upper  world. 
For  despite  her  fall  the  soul  has  always  a  higher  part. 

*  * 

The  ^^  soul  then  has  naturally  a  love  of  God  and  de- 
sires to  be  united  with  him  with  the  love  which  a  virgin 
bears  to  a  noble  father.  But  when  she  has  betaken 
herself  to  creation,  deceived  as  it  were  in  her  nuptials,  she 
exchanges  her  former  love  for  mortal  loA^e,  and  is  bereft 
of  her  father  and  becomes  wanton.  Still  if  she  begin 
again  to  hate  the  wantonness  of  earth,  she  is  purified  and 
turns  once  more  to  her  father  and  all  is  well  with  her. 
Those  to  whom  this  heavenly  love  is  unknown  may  get 
some  conception  of  it  from  earthly  love,  and  what  joy 
it  is  to  obtain  possession  of  what  one  loves  most.  Let 
him  then  reflect  that  these  objects  of  his  love  are  mortal 
and  perishable,  mere  shadows  for  his  love  to  feed  upon, 
and  soon  turned  to  loathly  things,  because  they  are  not 
the  true  beloved,  nor  our  good,  nor  what  we  seek; 
whereas  in  the  higher  world  we  find  the  true  beloved  with 
whom  it  is  possible  for  us  to  unite  ourselves  when  we  have 
seized  and  held  it,  because  it  is  not  clothed  with  flesh 
and  blood. 

He  who  has  beheld  this  beloved  knows  the  truth  of 
what  I  say,  how  the  soul  then  receives  a  new  life  when 
she  has  gone  forth  to  it,  and  come  to  it  and  participated 
in  it,  so  that  in  her  new  condition  she  knows  that  the 

"Plotinus,  Enneads,  VI.  9,  768  C  (C.  p.  1406,  1.  10:  V.  II.  521, 
1.  20). 


390       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

giver  of  true  life  is  beside  her,  and  that  she  needs  nothing 
else.  Such  an  one  knows  also,  however,  that  we  must 
put  all  else  away,  and  abide  in  the  beloved  alone,  and 
become  only  it,  stripping  off  all  else  that  wraps  us  about; 
and  hence  that  we  must  hasten  to  come  forth  from  the 
things  of  this  world,  and  be  wroth  at  the  bonds  which 
bind  us  to  them,  to  the  end  that  we  may  embrace  the 
beloved  with  all  our  soul,  and  have  no  part  of  us  left  with 
which  we  do  not  touch  God.  It  is  possible  for  us  even 
while  here  in  the  body  to  behold  both  him  and  our- 
selves in  such  wise  as  it  is  lawful  for  us  to  see.  Our- 
selves we  see  illumined,  full  of  the  light  of  the  intelligible, 
or  rather  as  that  very  light  itself,  pure,  without  heavi- 
ness, upward  rising.  Verily  we  see  ourselves  as  made, 
nay,  as  being  God  himself.  Then  it  is  that  we  are  kin- 
dled. But  when  we  again  sink  to  earth,  we  are,  as  it 
were,  put  out.  * 

But  ^^  why  then  do  we  not  remain  in  the  vision?  I 
reply,  because  we  have  never  wholly  come  forth  from  our 
earthly  selves.  But  there  shall  come  a  time  for  us  when 
the  vision  will  be  unbroken,  and  we  are  no  longer  dis- 
turbed by  any  unrest  of  the  body.  It  is  not  the  faculty 
of  vision  which  is  disturbed  but  some  other,  when  the  seer 
leaves  the  vision  unaccomplished,  but  deserts  not  the 
knowledge  which  lies  in  demonstration  and  belief  and  the 
dialectical  operation  of  the  soul.  The  seer  and  his  seeing, 
however,  are  no  longer  reason  and  reasoning,  but  su- 
perior to  reason  and  prior  to  reason  and  extraneous  to 
reason,  even  as  is  the  object  of  the  vision. 

Now  whosoever  beholds  himself,  when  he  beholds  his 
real  self  will  see  it  as  such  a  being,  or  rather  he  will  be 

"  Plotinus,  Enneads,  VI.  9,  S  10. 


PLOTINUS  391 

united  with  such  a  being,  and  feel  himself  to  have  be- 
come such  as  is  wholly  simple.  Indeed  we  ought  per- 
haps hardly  to  say  ''he  will  see  himself."  Nor  should 
we  speak  of  an  object  of  his  vision,  if  we  have  to  mean 
thereby  a  duality  of  the  seer  and  the  seen  and  do  not 
identify  the  two  as  one.  It  is  a  bold  thing  to  say,  but  in 
the  vision  a  man  neither  sees,  nor  if  he  sees,  distinguishes 
what  he  sees  from  himself  nor  fancies  that  there  are 
two — the  seer  and  the  seen.  On  the  contrary  it  is  by 
becoming  as  it  were  another  than  himself,  and  by  neither 
being  himself  nor  belonging  to  himself  that  he  attains  the 
vision.  And  having  surrendered  himself  to  it  he  is  one 
with  it,  as  the  centre  of  two  circles  might  coincide.  For 
these  centres  when  they  coincide  become  one,  and  when 
the  circles  are  separated  there  are  two  centres  again. 
And  it  is  in  this  sense  that  we  too  speak  of  a  difference. 
It  follows  that  the  vision  is  hard  to  describe.  For  how 
could  a  man  report  as  something  different  from  himself, 
what  at  the  time  of  his  vision  he  did  not  see  as  different 
but  as  one  with  himself? 

This  is  clearly  the  intent  of  that  injunction  of  the 
mysteries  which  forbids  communication  of  their  secret 
to  the  uninitiated.  Since  it  was  not  communicable  it 
was  forbidden  to  explain  the  divine  secret  to  any  one  to 
whom  it  had  not  been  vouchsafed  to  see  it  of  himself. 
Now  since  in  the  vision  there  were  not  two,  but  the  seer 
was  made  one  with  the  seen,  not  as  with  something  seen, 
but  as  with  something  made  one  with  himself,  he  who 
had  been  united  with  it  might,  if  he  remembered,  have 
by  him  some  faint  image  of  the  divine.  He  himself  was 
one,  with  no  distinctions  within  himself  either  as  re- 
garded himself  or  outer  things.  There  was  no  move- 
ment of  any  sort  in  him,  nor  was  emotion  or  desire  of 


392       SOURCE   BOOK  IN  ANCIENT  PHILOSOPHY 

any  outer  thing  present  in  him  after  his  ascent,  no,  not 
any  reason  or  any  thought,  nor  was  he  himself  present  to 
himself,  if  I  may  so  express  it;  but  as  rapt  and  inspired 
he  rested  isolated  in  his  unmoved  and  untroubled  essence, 
inclining  nowhere  and  not  even  reflecting  upon  himself, 
at  rest  in  all  respects,  yea,  as  if  he  had  become  rest  itself. 
Nor  did  he  concern  himself  with  the  beautiful,  but  had 
passed  beyond  beauty  and  had  transcended  the  series  of 
virtues  as  one  might  penetrate  into  the  interior  of  the 
holy  of  holies,  leaving  behind  in  the  temple  the  statues  of 
the  gods.  And  these  he  would  not  see  again  till  he  came 
out  after  having  had  the  vision  of  what  lay  within  and 
communion  there  with  what  was  no  statue  or  image  but 
the  divine  itself — of  which  the  statues  were  but  second- 
ary images.  And  perhaps  his  experience  was  not  a 
vision  but  some  other  kind  of  seeing,  ecstasy  and  sim- 
plification and  self-surrender,  a  yearning  to  touch  and 
a  rest  and  a  thought  centred  upon  being  merged  in  the 
divine.  Perhaps  this  was  his  experience  if  he  beheld 
anything  in  the  holy  of  holies.  Did  he  look  elsewhere, 
there  was  nothing  there. 

These  are  mere  figures  and  only  hint  to  the  wise  among 
the  prophets  of  the  manner  in  which  that  God  of  whom 
we  spoke  is  beheld.  But  the  wise  priest  who  reads  the 
riddle  aright  may  when  he  has  entered  the  sanctuary 
enjoy  the  vision  there;  and  even  if  he  has  not  entered, 
yet  because  he  has  believed  the  sanctuary  to  be  some- 
thing invisible  and  has  regarded  it  as  a  fountain  and  a 
source,  he  will  yet  know  it  as  the  source  of  all  things,  and 
behold  it  as  such,  and  be  merged  with  it,  by  like  perceiv- 
ing like,  and  will  miss  no  divine  thing  which  the  soul  is 
capable  of  attaining.  And  before  the  vision  comes,  he 
begs  for  the  remnant  and  remainder  of  the  vision.     But 


PLOTINUS  393 

for  him  who  has  transcended  all  things  there  remains 
that  which  is  prior  to  all  things. 

All  that  I  have  said  is  true,  for  the  nature  of  the  soul 
never  reaches  absolute  non-existence,  but  in  her  descent 
reaches  evil,  and  in  this  sense  non-existence,  but  not 
complete  non-existence.  And  in  pursuing  the  opposite 
course  she  reaches  no  outer  object,  but  herself,  and  hence 
she  does  not  dwell  in  nothing  because  she  is  in  no  outer 
object,  but  in  herself.  But  to  be  in  herself  and  not  in  ex- 
istence is  to  be  in  God.  For  a  man  himself  becomes  not 
an  essence,  but  superessential  in  so  far  as  he  clings  fast  to 
God.  ^Mien  now  he  sees  that  he  has  transcended  es- 
sence he  is  himself  an  image  of  God.  And  when  he  pro- 
ceeds out  of  himself  turning  from  a  copy  into  the  original 
he  has  reached  the  goal  of  his  journey.  Does  he  at  time 
fall  from  the  vision,  then  virtue  is  aroused  within  him, 
and  beholding  himself  adorned  in  every  way,  he  is  again 
lifted  up  by  the  help  of  virtue  to  the  intelligible  world, 
and  thence  proceeds  through  the  aid  of  wisdom  back  to 
God.  So  it  is  that  the  life  of  the  gods  and  of  godlike 
and  blessed  men  is  a  liberation  from  the  things  of  earth, 
a  Hfe  that  takes  no  joy  in  them,  a  flight  of  the  soul 
isolated  from  all  that  exists  to  the  isolation  of  God. 


INDEX  OF  NAMES 


Alcmseon,  37. 

Anaxagoras,  4,  48,  49>  97,  118, 

229,  244. 
Anaximander,  3. 
Anaximenes,  7. 
Antipater  of  Tarsus,  272. 
Antipho,  95. 
Antisthenes,  145. 
Apollodorus,  272,  276. 
Archedemus,  274. 
Aristippus,  91,  142. 
Aristotle,  4,  86,  317-368. 

Boethius,  272. 

Chrysippus,  269,  271,  272,  274, 

275,  276,  277,  378. 
Cleanthes,   269,   273,    274,    276, 

377. 

Democritus,  48,  58,  59,  315. 
Diogenes,  143,  147,  274. 

Empedocles,  43,  48,  229,  247. 

Epict>etus,  317,  330. 

Epicurus,    143,    144,    281,    390- 

305,  315,  329. 
Euthydemus,  94. 
Evenus,  108. 

Gorgias,  67,  85,  108. 

Hecatseus,  30. 
Hecaton,  273. 
Heraclitus,  38-35. 
Hippias,  74,  75,  108. 


Leucippus,  57,  65,  228,  229. 
Lucretius,  305-316. 

Marcus  Aurelius,  336-339. 
Melissus,  21, 
Meno,  85,  101. 

Parmenides,  11,  21,  57,   170  et 

seq. 
Persseus,  275. 
Phaedrus,  149. 
Plato,    129,    135,    148-316,  228, 

229,  368,  377,  383,  384,  386, 

389. 
Plotinus,  340-393. 
Plutarch,  278. 
Posidonius,  273. 
Prodicus,  74,  76,  108. 
Protagoras,  67,  68,  78. 
Pythagoras,    30,    35,    36,    149, 

284,  362. 

Socrates,    1,   86-141,    284,    317, 

322,  323,  324,  356,  362,  363. 
Speusippus,  284. 

Thales,  1. 
Theffitetus,  78. 
Theognis,  267. 
Timseus,  160. 

Xenocrates,  284. 
Xenophanes,  8,  20,  21,  30,  57. 
Xenophon,  86. 

Zeno  of  Citium,  269,  273,  275, 

284,  322. 
Zeno  of  Elea,  33,  168. 


395 


t 


